The Moment of Truth
by gauchadeutsche
Summary: Novelized Day of the Doctor, with appearances by all of the Doctors affected by the Time War. There will be bickering, revelations, apologies, lost companions, and crazy ideas. Read and find out if extra Doctors change the outcome at all, and what else they do when they're together! Featuring Eight, Nine, Twelve, and the Metacrisis.


**The Moment of Truth**

This fic contains plenty of dialogue lifted from The Day of the Doctor. That's the nature of the beast when rewriting an episode, but to clarify, I don't own it, the Doctor, the Daleks, or anything you might recognize. If you thought the 50th anniversary special was flawless, hit the back button, because I'm about to change it—not much, but enough to annoy people if that's not your thing.

*cue the Doctor Who Theme*

* * *

On a lonely desert planet, a wizened old man walked slowly, carrying a heavy sack. His steps were weary and his expression tight, but he pressed on, stopping only as he reached the only building left within miles. No one had lived here for centuries; this little planet was one of thousands devastated by the Time War.

_No more._

The man sighed. Once upon a time, this had been the thickly-forested Kerxityor IV, a beautiful, planet-wide resort for the mighty and rich of Gallifrey. Now, with Daleks and Time Lords doing their utmost to destroy each other, it had become one of the many ghost planets of Kasterborous. The only survivors were animals, the hardier ones who had survived the relentless bombing.

He reached the building at last and stepped inside, laying down his burden in the centre of the room and unwrapping it.

"How...how do you work?" he muttered, examining the box. "Why is there never a big red button?"

Hearing strange scuffling noises, the warrior checked the door.

"Hello? Is somebody there?" he called out into the desert.

"It's nothing," said a female voice behind him. "It's just a wolf."

Alarmed, the man rushed to the box. "Don't sit on that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not a chair, it's the most dangerous weapon in the universe!" he insisted, pulling her up and dragging her out. It did nothing but unnerve him, as she reappeared on the box the second he shut the door.

"Why can't it be both?" the woman asked, impish. "Why did you park so far away? Didn't you want her to see it?"

"Want who to see?" the gruff old man asked, feeling that he knew the answer.

"The TARDIS," the blonde figure said, savouring the word. "You walked for miles, and miles, and miles, and miles, and miles," she added, standing up and walking as if to demonstrate.

"I was thinking," the warrior explained.

"I heard you."

"You heard me?"

"No more. No more," the woman recited, imitating his voice. "No more. No more," she teased, dancing on the spot.

"No more," muttered the Time Lord.

"No more. No more," the woman went on.

"Stop it!" he ordered.

The blonde threw in one more, unrepentant. "No more."

"Who are you?" the warrior asked finally.

A clicking sound drew his attention back to the box. "It's activating," he realised. "Get out of here!"

As he knelt and tried to touch the box, it turned white-hot. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?"

"The interface is hot," the man replied.

"Well, I do my best," the woman said, nonchalant.

"There's a power source inside." There was a slight pause as the penny dropped. "_You're_ the interface?"

"They must have told you the Moment had a conscience," the Moment clarified, amused. "Hello! Oh, look at you. Stuck between a girl and a box. Story of your life, eh, Doctor?"

"You know me?" asked the Doctor, astounded.

"I hear you," the Moment explained. "All of you, jangling around in that dusty old head of yours. I chose this face and form especially for you. It's from your past. Or possibly your future. I always get those two mixed up."

"I don't have a future," the Doctor said grimly.

"I think I'm called Rose Tyler," the Moment said, ignoring him. "No. Yes. No, sorry, no, no, in this form, I'm called Bad Wolf. Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Doctor?"

"Stop calling me Doctor," the man protested.

"That's the name in your head," Bad Wolf replied.

"It shouldn't be," he insisted. "I've been fighting this war for a long time. I've lost the right to be the Doctor."

"Then you're the one to save us all," Bad Wolf said.

"Yes."

"If I ever develop an ego, you've got the job," she teased.

Slowly, the Doctor got to his feet, and took the steps to the Moment's box.

"If you have been inside my head," he began, "then you know what I've seen. The suffering. Every moment in time and space is burning. It must end, and I intend to end it the only way I can."

"And you're going to use me to end it by killing them all, Daleks and Time Lords alike. I could do it," the Moment said, "but there will be consequences for you."

"I have no desire to survive this," the Doctor declared, unnecessarily.

"Then that's your punishment," Bad Wolf decided, reappearing next to the Doctor. "If you do this, if you kill them all, then that's the consequence. You live. Gallifrey...you're going to burn it, and all those Daleks with it, but all those children, too. How many children on Gallifrey right now?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted.

"One day you will count them," the Moment predicted. "One terrible night. Do you want to see what that will turn you into? Come on, aren't you curious?" she insisted, nudging his shoulder with hers.

A whirling portal of golden light appeared in the barn before he could respond.

"I'm opening windows on your future, and recent past," she explained. "A tangle in time through the days to come, from the man you were when the Time War started, to the man today will make of you."

To their great surprise, a red fez fell out of the portal.

"Okay, I wasn't expecting that," the Moment said, frowning.

* * *

In the distant future, the Eleventh Doctor walked through the Undergallery with Clara, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, and Osgood.

"I've always wanted to meet someone called Yes," the Doctor was saying. "Now, I want this stone dust analysed. And I want a report in triplicate, with lots of graphs and diagrams and complicated sums on my desk, tomorrow morning, ASAP, pronto, LOL. See? Job. Do I have a desk?" he asked Kate.

"No."

"And I want a desk," he ordered.

"Get a team," Kate told Osgood. "Analyse the stone dust. Inhaler!"

They walked deeper into the gallery, where, to his great delight, the Doctor spotted a bright red fez. He slipped it out of its display case and put it on at once.

"Someday, you could just walk past a fez," Clara sighed.

"Never gonna happen," the Doctor answered happily.

They stepped into a new room, covered in broken glass.

"This is why we called you in," Kate explained.

"3D again," Clara observed.

"Interesting," murmured the Doctor.

"The broken glass?"

"No, where it's broken _from_. Look at the shatter pattern. The glass on all these painting has been broken from the _inside_."

"As you can see, all the paintings are landscapes. No figures of any kind," Kate said.

"So?"

"There used to be," she added, showing the Doctor a tablet with photos of the original paintings.

"Lots of somethings," the Doctor observed. "Dangerous."

"This whole place has been searched. There's nothing here that shouldn't be, and nothing's got out."

As soon as Kate had finished, a golden portal appeared above their heads.

"Oh no, not now!" moaned the Doctor.

"Doctor, what is it?" Clara asked.

"No, not now, I'm busy!"

"Is it to do with the paintings?" Kate tried.

"No, no," the Doctor assured her. "This is different. I remember this. Almost remember. Oh, of course," he realised, remembering his fez. "This is where _I_ come in."

To the women's shock, he threw his newly-acquired fez into the portal. Then, to top it off, he jumped in himself, yelling "Geronimo!"

"Doctor!" cried Clara.

It was no use. The Doctor was gone.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a TARDIS console room full of tree-sized coral, a leather-clad Doctor danced with Rose Tyler, as their new friend Jack Harkness looked on. After saving Blitz-era London, and breaking in the Time Agent as a new companion, spirits were high and the thirty-first century music was swinging.

"Can I cut in now?" Jack asked, a bit impatiently. "You _did_ imply that you'd dance with me, Doc."

"Oi, thanks a lot!" laughed Rose, stepping aside.

"Don't take it personally, Rosie," the rogue said, winking. "I'll dance with _both_ of you as many times as you like."

When the Doctor grinned and held an arm out to Jack, there was a flash of gold and a portal appeared, causing alarms to go off in every corner of the TARDIS. The Doctor rushed to the console, switching off the alarms before they deafened them all.

"What the hell is that?" Jack cried, after jumping away from the portal.

"It's a fissure in time and space," the Doctor replied, taking out his sonic screwdriver. "I don't understand," he muttered, going into scholar mode. "It should be impossible to sustain one inside a TARDIS. It should be impossible for it to exist _anywhere at all_, now that there are no Time Lords around to create one!"

"Okay," said Jack slowly. "We're on an impossible ship, with an impossible Time Lord, and now there's an impossible window into who knows where—or when, rather."

"Glad you cleared _that_ up," Rose said sarcastically, and Jack shrugged.

As the Doctor continued to scan the portal, a bright red fez fell onto the TARDIS console.

Rose burst out laughing. "Seriously? A big, scary portal opens an' all we get is a silly hat?"

The Doctor and Jack both reached for the fez, but Jack was closer. He put it on, grinning.

"How do I look?"

"It doesn't work with the coat, Jack," Rose told him, keeping her tone serious in between suppressed giggles. "Have you tried a fedora? I'm sure there's one in the Doctor's wardrobe. He has _everything_."

"Hello?" called a voice through the portal, and all three froze. "Is there someone there?"

"I know that voice," the Doctor said, startled. "But I don't remember this at all!"

"Did you lose a fez, good man?" Jack called to the mysterious man.

"Not that I know of," the other replied. "Who are you?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, the Doctor, and the lovely Rose Tyler at your service," Jack answered. "And you?"

There was a slight pause.

"I'm the Doctor."

Rose and Jack immediately looked at their Doctor, who didn't contradict the speaker.

"I suppose you're a future Doctor, since I have no memory of this," the other Doctor continued. "Why did you open the portal?"

"I didn't!" protested the leather-clad, big-eared Doctor. "We were just minding our own business, in the TARDIS, and all of a sudden this thing opened and a hat fell out of it."

"If you didn't throw the fez, there must be more than two exits to that portal," Jack realised. Thinking fast, he took off the hat and threw it in. "_Now_ do you see the fez, Other Doctor?"

There was no answer.

"Doc, if that was a version of you from the past, why don't you remember this?"

"I don't know!" the Doctor protested, bringing both hands to his temples. "In my eighth body I had a lot of trouble with amnesia," he admitted.

"Did you say eighth _body_?" Rose asked, confused.

"Yeah, it's a Time Lord trick," the Doctor explained. "When we get really old, or we're injured enough to die, we regenerate into a new body instead. Dodgy process, though. You never know what sort of body you'll get. New fashion sense, new taste buds, new voice box; the whole package changes, and not always for the better."

"So you're basically immortal?" the blonde asked, still not getting it.

"Oh no," the Doctor clarified. "We get twelve regenerations, and that's that."

"How many have you used up?" Jack demanded, raising his eyebrows. "And were they all as sexy as this one?"

"Nine, and no," the Time Lord answered. At their crestfallen faces, he said, "Oi, don't look so glum! For a Time Lord, each body could live for a thousand years or more, if you never do anything fun. I'll outlive both of you."

"Oh, thanks for that," Jack sighed. "By the way, your younger self is either ignoring us or in serious trouble. What are we gonna do about it?"

"There's only one thing I _can_ do," the Doctor decided. "Jack, Rose, you two stay here, and don't do anything stupid. I'm going in."

"No, wait!"

"Doctor, no!"

Ignoring their protests, the Time Lord jumped into the portal and disappeared from view.

"He did not just do that!" Jack protested, incredulous.

"Well, I'm not hangin' about here and waiting," Rose decided. "You comin', Captain?"

Her handsome companion grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

Holding hands, the two humans ran to the portal and jumped, yelling all the way.

* * *

On a distant beach of pink sand, a family of three was enjoying a picnic. They were an odd group; the older woman had wild golden curls and was dressed to the nines, with sparkly high heels and a plunging halter dress. The younger woman wore jeans and a simple vest top, and her long hair hung down her back in a blond plait.

The man sitting across from them had salt-and-pepper curls, and wore an elegant blue coat over a crisp white shirt. A wine bottle and several containers of food lay open between the three, who ate with gusto.

"You're right about these bananas, Dad," the girl said, licking her spoon clean of a blue substance with bits of banana mixed in. "Delicious."

"Of course I am," he answered lazily. "Bananas are the universe's reward for good behaviour."

"Oh, there he goes again," the other woman teased. "Jenny, really! You know better than to get him started on fruit and veg!"

"Bananas are amazing," she defended, and her father shot an approving nod in her direction. "Maybe it's a Time Lord thing, River."

"No, that's a Doctor thing," her stepmother declared, looking fondly at her husband.

"I'll have you know that I—"

Whatever the Doctor had meant to say was lost, as a swirling portal appeared above them.

"What's that?" cried Jenny, staring at it in awe.

"It's a fissure," River explained, "a tear in space and time. Doctor, how is this possible?"

The doctor put down his wineglass.

"I knew this would come, just not the exact place and time," he told them. "This is not the first time I've seen this. I'm about to go through the portal, and I will meet my past selves at a crucial moment in my personal history."

Jenny jumped up. "We can see your other faces?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "Well, if I recall correctly, it was just the lives affected by the Time War, so the last five, and me."

"Oh, goody," River Song breathed, taking the Doctor's hand and standing. "And it's not even my birthday."

"Down, girl," he murmured, amused. "They're just boys."

"Exactly," she purred back. "I've always wanted to know them a little better, especially your eighth self."

As Jenny mock-vomited into the pasta salad, a fez fell out of the portal and into the picnic basket.

"A fez!" River cried, her eyes crinkling with laughter. "Oh, your last face _loved_ those."

"I know," the Doctor replied, wincing. "Fezzes and bow ties. That _was_ a mid-life crisis; I'm man enough to admit it now."

"Go on then!" Jenny ordered, fishing it out and handing the hat to her father. "Put it on!"

"No, _thank_ you," the Time Lord retorted, throwing it back into the vortex. "No more fezzes for me."

"Why was it here, anyway?" River asked, getting back to business.

"Because my previous self threw it into his time fissure, and the fez flew back and forth to each of the Doctors involved. Its final stop will be England in 1562, where Queen Elizabeth's men will confiscate the fez and put it in a secret underground gallery. My predecessor will find it there in 2013."

"Even for a Time Lord, that's ridiculous," Jenny observed, shaking her head. "Right, shall we put this stuff back in the TARDIS and jump in?"

The Doctor sighed. "Shame. I was looking forward to dessert. Instead, I'll spend the day breaking up fights between my younger selves, just you wait."

* * *

In Pete's World, a man in pinstriped grey trousers and a T-shirt wiped sweat off his brow. He was tinkering with something in a shed, or rather, the shed itself. A stranger would have been shocked to see the shed flicker, turn into a blue police box briefly, and then fade back into a shed with a missing side.

"Dad!" cried a skinny, five-year-old boy, running to the man. "You fixed the chameleon circuit?"

"I can't just yet, Freddie," he replied, ruffling the boy's wild brown hair. "The TARDIS is not full-grown, so she can't hold the disguise for more than a few seconds and defaults back. Still, in another year or so she might be finished. Then we'll have some fun!"

"Yay!" Freddie cried.

"What's this, then?" called a woman, and the man turned to face his wife. Time had given her face some lines, and her hair was dyed a more natural shade of blonde these days, but she was as lovely as ever. In her arms, she held their three-year-old daughter.

"Oh, hello, Rose," the man said softly, lowering the sonic screwdriver and giving her a kiss. "And hello, Donna! Did you have a nice sleep?"

"Donna slept for _ages_," Freddie complained, running around the garden in a Superman cape. "Sleep's boring."

"Wilfred Noble," Rose chided, "I told you—and your dad—little humans need plenty of sleep, or they won't be strong enough to travel through space, having adventures."

"But I'm half Time Lord; Daddy said so," the boy replied, and Rose shot a scathing glare at her husband of eight years. The man cringed, and busied himself with his jacket buttons to avoid her glare.

"Well, Daddy can forget about the lovely banoffee pie Grandma Jackie sent—"

Rose trailed off, her eyes wide. A time fissure had opened in the Nobles' back garden, a few feet away from the infant TARDIS. Freddie hid behind his father's legs.

"John," Rose said quietly, "what is it?"

"It's a portal into another place and time," the man answered, pulling out his screwdriver and scanning the thing.

"Who opened it?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" the Metacrisis Doctor cried, jumping into his familiar, manic scientist mode. "I have no idea!"

"Is it dangerous?" little Freddie asked, worried.

"Maybe," his father replied. "It depends on who opened it, and what for. Very few races have the power to do it, and the Time Lords were one of those."

"Shhh!" Rose ordered, urgent. "I hear voices on the other side!"

They listened intently, but the voices were too faint to make out, like a badly-tuned radio. To their surprise, a red fez came whizzing out of the portal, landing inches from the Doctor's shoe.

"Huh," Rose said, frowning in confusion. "I didn't see that coming."

Freddie picked up the hat and put it on. It was much too large for him, covering everything from the chin up.

"Oh, very handsome," John Noble chuckled, pulling the fez off his young son. "I think you'll have to grow into it, though."

"John, who throws a fez into a time portal?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow. "It sounds like the sort of thing _you'd_ do."

"It does," he answered, ruffling his hair in deep thought. "That, or an odd sock. I never liked odd socks."

Wilfred giggled.

"Let's try this," John suggested, throwing the hat back into the fissure. There was no sound from the portal, though they all tried calling out. Even little Donna sent greetings to the mysterious portal people.

"Well, only one thing left to do," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Shall we, Mrs. Noble?"

Rose grinned, and took her son by the hand. "Let's do it."

"Allons-y!"

Dr. John Noble, his wife Rose, and their children, Wilfred and Donna, disappeared into thin air.

* * *

The brilliant rays of the red star Galileo IV rose over a blue telephone box, parked on a man-made cliff. In the distance, a smoking spaceship lay in a blanket of blue-green grass. A striking figure in velvet chatted with the locals, surveying the scene with satisfaction. They stood on the outskirts of New New Milan, an Earth Human colony on the Carina-Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way.

"Are you sure you won't accept a gift, Doctor?" the local governor-general was asking, rocking slightly back and forth on his military-issue boots. "It would be our pleasure to honour you, perhaps with a feast?"

"Thank you," the Doctor replied, "but doing good is its own reward. What will become of the pirates?"

"We'll take them to Carina Station when the shuttle arrives next week, and there they'll stand trial," the governor answered. "They won't bother anyone else in this galaxy for a long time."

"Good," answered the Doctor.

"What about you, Doctor? Where will you go?"

"Ah, Serrano, that's the beauty of being a time-traveler," the Doctor said vaguely, although the cheerful tone in his voice rang false. "I never know where I'll end up next."

The forty-second century human clapped the Time Lord on the back and left, having promised a press conference. Once he had gone, the Doctor's happy façade dropped. He seemed to age a century as his eyes lost their spark.

The Gallifreyan walked back to his TARDIS slowly. He had been running for years, avoiding the Time War as much as possible. He had no wish to get involved, but it was becoming harder and harder to escape such a large catastrophe. Refugees had fled across the universe, bringing tales of devastation and Daleks until the word was as feared as the creatures themselves. It was a miracle that Earth and her closer colonies had not been affected so far, one for which the Doctor was tremendously grateful.

The Time Lord ran a hand through his hair, missing the longer curls he had worn for decades. He had spent too long aiding the refugees of the War, when they'd let him, and it showed. The romantic, energetic, sharply-dressed adventurer of days past had given way to a hardened drifter, one who travelled alone and daren't return home.

As his thoughts turned increasingly bitter, the Doctor almost missed the opening of a time fissure directly in front of him. He was well-versed in the theory of fissures, although he had not seen one like this before. Eagerly, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver.

"It doesn't work with the coat, Jack," he heard a woman say from the other side. "Have you tried a fedora? I'm sure there's one in the Doctor's wardrobe. He has _everything_."

Well, that was interesting, thought the Doctor. He did not recognize the voice, or the name (who was Jack?), but she had mentioned a Doctor.

"Hello?" the Doctor called. "Is there someone there?"

Suddenly, a male voice joined the woman. Was this Jack?

"I know that voice," it said. "But I don't remember this at all!"

The Doctor's mind made the connection immediately. That voice belonged to another Doctor! He had crossed his own timeline before, so this wasn't as worrisome as it should have been.

"Did you lose a fez, good man?" called another male voice.

"Not that I know of," the Doctor answered, nonplussed. "Who are you?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, the Doctor, and the lovely Rose Tyler at your service," answered the second man. "And you?"

For a moment, the Doctor pondered the wisdom of revealing himself to his future counterpart. Then he remembered that the Time Lord had already recognized his voice, and threw caution to the winds.

"I'm the Doctor."

There was no answer.

"I suppose you're a future Doctor, since I have no memory of this," he went on. "Why did you open the portal?"

"I didn't!" protested the future Doctor, and the present Doctor noted a strong Northern accent. "We were just minding our own business, in the TARDIS, and all of a sudden this thing opened and a hat fell out of it."

"If you didn't throw the fez, there must be more than two exits to that portal," Jack theorized. "_Now_ do you see the fez, Other Doctor?"

Almost as soon as he'd said it, a red fez came out of the portal, falling neatly into the Doctor's hands.

"Interesting," the Eighth Doctor said, turning it over in his hands. He'd never seen this fez before in his life. Why was it whizzing around his personal timeline, and what was he meant to do with it?

For a moment, the Doctor looked back at New New Milan, now glowing in the morning light. He had no further business here; might as well search for something to do.

With a mental shrug, he put on the fez and jumped into the portal.

* * *

Meanwhile, in sixteenth-century England, the Tenth Doctor was struggling to identify the real queen—and his betrothed, how had _that _happened?—from the Zygon.

"Doctor. Step away from her, Doctor. That's not me. That's the creature." one Elizabeth claimed.

"How is that possible?" the other asked, gobsmacked. "She's me. Doctor, she's me!"

The Time Lord picked up his machine that went 'ding', frustrated. It was not helping him at all!

"I am indeed me. A compliment that cannot be extended to yourself," the first Elizabeth snarked.

"Extraordinary! The creature has captured my exact likeness. This is exceptional," the other commented.

"Exceptional? A Queen would call it impertinent."

"A Queen would feel compelled to admire the skill of the execution, before arranging one."

"It's not working!" the Doctor complained, shaking his device and ignoring them.

"One might surmise that the creature would learn quickly to protect itself from any simple means of detection," the first Elizabeth went on.

"Clearly you understand the creature better than I. But then, you have the advantage."

Their bickering ended only when a time fissure appeared between the trees.

"Back, both of you, now!" the Doctor ordered. "That's a time fissure. A tear in the fabric of reality. Anything could happen."

Indeed, something _did_ happen. A bright red something, in the shape of a fez.

"For instance, a fez," the Doctor said, confused.

"Is that a _hat_?" the first Elizabeth asked, incredulous.

Before the Doctor could answer, a man came through the portal, crashing into the forest floor. He was lanky and odd-looking, with barely-there eyebrows and an unfortunate chin.

The Doctor put on the fez.

"Who is this man?" demanded one of the Elizabeths.

"That's just what I was wondering," the Doctor replied, watching the new arrival stand.

"Oh, that is skinny," said the strange man, turning sideways and inspecting the Doctor. "That is proper skinny! I've never seen it from the outside. It's like a special effect! Oi!" he finished, knocking the fez off the Doctor's head. "Ha! Matchstick man!"

A horrible realization dawned on the Doctor.

"You're not."

They both reached into their pockets, pulling out sonic screwdrivers. The Tenth Doctor, about to make a joke about their relative sizes, stopped short as the portal sang again, and yet another man fell through.

"Ow," groaned the new arrival. Both Doctors recognized him at once, and went to help him up, more out of friendliness than any real need.

"Hello there, Doctor," said the bow tie Doctor happily. "Long time no see!"

"Who the hell are you?" the Ninth Doctor demanded, watching them both through narrowed eyes.

"Oh, that's rude," Eleven said to Ten. "Really rude."

"That's us," Ten said lightly, "rude and not ginger."

The Ninth Doctor froze in shock. "No!"

"Yep," the pinstriped Doctor confirmed, popping the 'p' and waving his sonic screwdriver. Eleven did the same.

"Compensating for something, then?" the Ninth Doctor asked Eleven, making Ten grin.

"For what?"

"Regeneration," Nine answered, shrugging. "Dodgy process, that."

"Says the man with the giant ears," Eleven retorted, and Ten snorted in agreement, tugging at his own ear in relief.

"Doctor, what is going on?" demanded both Elizabeths, making all three Doctors turn.

"Bit of an identity crisis," the pinstriped Doctor answered. "Elizabeth, whichever one of you is the real one, turn and run in the opposite direction to the other one."

"Of course, my love," they answered together. Nine and Eleven watched, mystified, as they kissed the Tenth Doctor in turns and then left.

"My history is a bit rusty," Nine said slowly, "but I'm fairly certain there was only one Queen Elizabeth, at least at this point in time."

"Yeah, one of them is a Zygon," Ten explained.

"Red and rubbery, suckers and venom sacs, and he just kissed it," Eleven clarified for Nine.

"Yep."

"Oh, nice," Nine complained. "I regenerate into a total nutter...twice!"

"Oi!" the pinstriped doctor protested.

"Nah, he's right," Eleven decided, rubbing his chin. "We are a bit nutty."

Before Ten could object, the portal flashed again, and this time, three people fell through.

"Rose!" cried Nine, Ten, and Eleven together. The older Doctors dashed forward to help her stand.

"Jack, I thought I told you not to do anything stupid!" Nine shouted, dragging the rogue Time Agent to his feet.

"Hey, it was Rose's idea," Jack explained, raising his hands in surrender. "I just followed for her protection."

"My knight in shining armour," Rose teased, picking bits of leaf out of her hair.

"Ah, so _you're _Jack," the third person said, and the three Doctors froze at the sight of him. Rose raised her eyebrows, admiring the view.

Jack broke free of Nine's grip and shook the stranger's hand eagerly. "Nice to meet you, Other Doctor. This one lied," he joked, pointing to Nine. "He said his other regenerations were not as gorgeous as he. Loving the outfit," he finished, grinning.

"Like you'd win any beauty pageants!" Eleven protested to Nine, while the latter crossed his arms and prayed to any listening deities for patience.

"So...you're all the Doctor?" Rose asked, confused. The lack of recognition in her face was painful for Ten and Eleven to see, although they could not blame her for it, as she hadn't met them yet (in Ten's case), or at all (Eleven).

"How about we wait for a bit, and see if anyone else comes through? I don't think this thing is done yet," suggested the oldest Doctor, straightening his bow tie. "Just...have a seat somewhere. And Rose," he added suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"It's _so_ good to see you," Eleven said quickly. The sincerity in his tone gave her pause. "Now off you go; find yourself a nice stump to sit on."

They sat, watching the portal. It didn't take long before it activated again, only this time it was just a voice coming through.

"Doctor?" Clara called. "Where are you?"

"Where are we?" asked Eleven.

"England, 1562," supplied Ten.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Who am I _not _talking to?" Eleven said wryly. "It's a party of me, with a few gatecrashers."

"Can you get back through?" asked Kate Stewart.

"Maybe. Physical passage may not be possible in both directions. Ah! Hang on, fez incoming!"

He threw the abused fez back in.

"Nothing here," Clara told him.

"So where did it go?" Jack wondered.

Clara and Kate had no answer for him.

"Okay, you used to be me...you used to be all of us," the pinstriped Doctor told Eleven. "You've done this before. What happens next?"

"I don't remember," Eleven admitted.

Nine groaned, his head falling into his hands. "Please, not the amnesia again."

"I resent that!" Eight said, indignant. "It's not _my_ fault that I was born in a morgue after getting butchered by Americans!"

Jack and Rose winced. The blonde wrapped an arm around her leather-wearing Doctor, watching the other Time Lords with no small amount of suspicion. She still didn't quite believe that they were _her_ Doctor, although the one in the waistcoat was quite handsome, and the one in pinstripes had great hair.

As Ten and Eleven argued about polarity, the fissure flashed again, and three more people came through. The first was a man none of them recognized. The two women, however, were another story.

"River! Jenny!" cried the pinstriped Doctor, his mouth falling open. "How?"

"Hi, clone-Dad," his daughter said brightly. "Turns out, I was shot within my first fifteen hours, so I healed up nicely just after you left."

"And then she stole a ship and flew off," the grey-haired man added, beaming. "She's a chip off the old block for sure!"

"That's brilliant!" said the younger Doctor, wrapping Jenny in a hug and spinning her around. "Oh, that's absolutely brilliant!"

"Thanks," Jenny answered cheerfully.

River had said nothing so far, standing beside the man and Jenny and inspecting them all in turn. When eyes turned to her, she grinned.

"Hello, sweeties."

"Hang on," Eleven said sharply. "I've regenerated twelve times already, so there are no more left. Who are you?" he asked the man in blue.

"Spoilers," replied the grey-haired man, but he also removed a sonic screwdriver from his pocket and showed it to them. It was the same size and shape as Eleven's, but with a purple light. "It's good to see you all again. Well," he amended, brutally honest, "some more than others."

"Tell me I'm not dreaming," Jack whispered to Rose, who laughed. "I'm in a secluded clearing in the woods, surrounded by sexy Time Lords, gorgeous ladies, and a silver fox. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Jack, stop it!" Eleven ordered.

"You didn't even hear what I—"

"Just stop it."

"You're no fun, bow tie," Jack complained. "_Our_ Doctor knows how to take a bit of flirting."

"He's an old man, Jack," Nine said from his perch on Rose's other side. "Give it a rest."

"Could we please do introductions now?" Eight asked, tired of conversations he only half-understood. "I don't think anyone else is coming through."

As soon as he'd said it, the portal lit up again. It seemed to struggle this time, making a strange whining sound until four more people landed in the clearing. Two of them looked impossibly familiar.

"That's not possible!" cried Ten, watching the Metacrisis Doctor pull a woman and two children to their feet. As soon as she was standing, the grown-up Rose looked around the clearing, her eyes widening as she saw the Ninth and Tenth Doctors.

"We're back!" she gasped, gripping her husband's arm for strength. The assembled Doctors caught the glint of wedding bands on their fingers.

"Mummy, is that Daddy's brother?" asked little Donna, pointing to the pinstriped Doctor.

"Yes," Rose Noble said firmly, daring Ten to disagree. "That's the Other Doctor, darling."

John Noble picked up his son, and exchanged loaded glances with his full Time Lord twin. While they had once been identical, eight years of human life in Pete's World had left their mark on the Metacrisis. There was silver in his hair, and laugh lines the other Doctor didn't have.

"What is going on here?" demanded the younger Rose Tyler, and the Noble family finally saw her, sitting between the Ninth Doctor and Jack.

"Time travel," Rose Noble explained, shrugging. "I'm a future version of you."

"Cool, Mummy has a twin too!" Freddie cried, slipping out of his father's grip and running to the younger Rose. It was impossible to miss the resemblance to Ten, or the Metacrisis, though the little boy had his mother's smile.

"What is happening? Why have you pulled us through?" the half-human Doctor demanded.

"We didn't," Nine told him. "We don't know who did."

"Blimey, that's a lot of people," they heard Clara say from the Undergallery. "How many Doctors are you talking to, Doctor?"

"Oh, half of my regenerations are here; it's a grand old party," Eleven said cheerfully.

The Tenth Doctor snorted. "Have you forgotten what happens every time we cross our own timeline?"

"Okay, so we bicker a bit. That's normal, to argue with yourself, isn't it?"

"Oh, for crying out loud," the grey-haired Doctor mumbled. "Can't he just come through already?"

"Who?" asked Eight sharply, overhearing the comment.

"The Doctor responsible for this, of course," Twelve answered easily. "_You_ won't remember this, since it hasn't happened yet for you, but the others should. Does the Moment mean anything to you lot?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Nine demanded, harsh as he always was when the Time War came up.

"Everything."

As the group of thirteen watched the fissure, silent, the last Doctor came through. Nine, Ten, the Metacrisis, and Eleven recoiled in horror.

"Anyone lose a fez?" the old man asked lightly, holding the red hat.

"Why are you here?" the pinstriped Doctor asked rudely.

"Good afternoon," the other replied, not recognizing him. "I'm looking for the Doctor."

"Well," Ten answered, "you've certainly come to the right place."

"Good," the War Doctor said. "Right."

It seemed to dawn on the man that there were quite a few people in the clearing, none of whom were familiar...except one.

"Oh, there you are," he said finally, spotting Eight. "Twelve companions? I don't remember ever taking so many, Doctor, and some of them are far too young!" he cried, pointing to little Donna and Freddie.

"Companions?" sputtered Eleven, indignant. Before the War Doctor could say anything else, every Doctor in the clearing held out a sonic screwdriver.

"Am I having a mid-life crisis?" the War Doctor asked, aghast as he inspected Ten, the Metacrisis, and Eleven in his bow tie. "And why are you pointing those sonic screwdrivers like that? They're scientific instruments, not water pistols!"

"I forgot he used to do the posh gravelly thing," Ten remarked to Eleven, whose mouth twitched. "Very convincing."

"Brave words, Dick van Dyke," Eleven answered.

Before they could get down to business, a group of soldiers appeared and encircled them.

"Which of you is the Doctor?" demanded the leader. "The Queen of England is bewitched. I would have the Doctor's head."

"Well," said the War Doctor, "this has all the makings of your lucky day."

"I think there's seven of them now," they all heard Clara say to Kate.

"There's a precedent for that," Kate Stewart answered. "Well, maybe not seven, but at least five."

"What is that?" asked the soldier.

The Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Doctors, having sprung to their feet with the soldiers' arrival, now pointed their sonic screwdrivers at them.

"Oh, the pointing again!" complained the War Doctor. "They're _screwdrivers_! What are you going to do, assemble a cabinet at them?"

"That thing," demanded the soldier, "what witchcraft is it?"

"Ah yes," said Eleven, fiddling with his screwdriver. "Now that you mention it, that is witchcraft, yes, yes, yes. Witchy-witchcraft. Hello? Hello in there! Excuse me. Hello? Am I talking to the Wicked Witch of the Well? Clara?"

Jack muffled a snort by covering his face with a sleeve.

"Hello?" Clara replied.

"Clara, hi, hello. Would you mind telling these prattling mortals to get themselves begone?" Eleven asked, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the other Doctors.

"What he said," the Impossible Girl answered, haltingly.

"Tiny bit more colour," demanded the Doctor.

"Right...prattling mortals, off you pop! Or I'll turn you all into frogs!"

"Ooh, frogs. Nice. You heard her!"

"Doctor, what is going on?" Clara asked, more confused than she could remember being in her life.

"It's a...timey-wimey thing," he told her, sheepish.

"Timey-wimey?" repeated the War Doctor, incredulous. "Timey-wimey?"

"I've no idea where he picks that stuff up," the Tenth Doctor said quickly.

"Daddy says that all the time," Freddie offered, drawing eyes back to the Metacrisis Doctor, who scratched his neck in embarrassment.

"The Queen!" called out the soldiers, bowing as the ginger queen approached.

"You don't seem to be kneeling," she observed, watching the Doctors and their many associates. "How tremendously brave of you."

"Which one are you? What happened to the other one?" demanded the pinstriped Doctor.

"Indisposed," Elizabeth answered, smirking. "Long live the Queen."

"Long live the Queen!" repeated the soldiers.

"Arrest these men," she ordered. "Take them to the Tower!"

"That is not the Queen of England, that's an alien duplicate!" Ten cried.

"And you can take it from him, 'cause he's really checked," Eleven added, remembering the Zygon kissing his younger self.

"Shut up!"

"Venom sacs in the tongue."

"Seriously, stop it!"

"No, hang on, the Tower? Did you say the Tower?" Eleven said suddenly, raising his arms in delight. "Ah, yes, brilliant! Love the Tower! Breakfast at eight, please. Will there be WiFi?"

"Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands about?" asked the War Doctor, torn between amusement and horror that this man was a future version of himself.

"No, he can't," answered the grey-haired Doctor in the blue suit.

"Oi! Yes I can!" Eleven protested, flapping his hands. "No I can't. Anyway, I demand to be incarcerated in the Tower with my co-conspirators, Sandshoes, Granddad, Angry Leather Man, Curly, Grumpy, the Tyler Twins, Captain Jack, Professor Song, and...let's see, did I miss anyone?"

"You forgot the Acrobat Assassin," Jenny said brightly.

"Ah yes, her," he added, ignoring the protests from his other selves.

"Silence! The Tower is not to be taken lightly!" Elizabeth ordered. "Very few emerge again."

"Yes, well," said Nine to Rose and Jack, "we'll be those few."

* * *

A short time later, all of the time-travelers found themselves in a large cell at the Tower of London, seated in small groups along the damp walls. It was a large room, but with so many people it felt a bit cramped.

"Right," said the man in blue, taking charge. "There's no one else coming, so _now_ is the time for introductions. Let's start with the youngest and work our way up the Doctors, then companions and friends, eh? Tell us where you were before you came here, and don't worry about paradoxes; you won't remember anything we say or do here when this is over."

Eight stood up, his golden waistcoat catching the light despite its sorry state. "I'm the Eighth Doctor," he said, his cultured voice ringing throughout the cell. "I'm about seven hundred years old—not quite sure, thanks to the amnesia—and I had just saved New New Milan from pirates when the fissure opened."

"Ah, New New Milan," sighed the Eleventh Doctor. "That was a gorgeous place, that was."

"No interruptions, sweetie," ordered River Song, shaking her finger in his direction.

The battered warrior took his turn, looking sadly at Eight. "I'm the ninth face of the Doctor, although I've renounced the name since I started fighting in the War," he said, and the leather-clad Ninth Doctor closed his eyes as though in pain. "Arcadia has just fallen. I stole the Moment, and was about to use it, when the portal appeared."

"What he's not saying, because he can't," the man in blue told them all, "is that this is the Moment's doing. She wanted us to see what would happen if we used her to end the War, and she made sure that none of us would remember this, until him," he finished, pointing to Eleven.

"So you _are _me," Eleven breathed. "That's just not possible. Where would I pick up a new regeneration cycle?"

"Let's move on," said Twelve, ignoring him.

"I was born just after we ended the Time War," Nine said painfully, and Rose squeezed his hand for comfort. "These are my companions, Rose Tyler of twenty-first century London, and Jack Harkness, rogue Time Agent from the fifty-first century. We met Jack a few days ago, saved London from the Chula ambulance, and had a few more adventures since then."

"And a dance," sighed Rose Noble fondly, and the Metacrisis Doctor kissed her forehead.

"I'm the Tenth Doctor," the pinstripe-wearing Doctor said, taking his turn. "He regenerated into me after the game station, when our brilliant companion Rose looked into the heart of the TARDIS to save me, and became the Bad Wolf. He sucked the Vortex out of her, died, and voilà! Me," Ten sighed. "I've been summoned to the Ood's home planet, but I've taken the long way there. I had a bit of a Martian misadventure, and then I came here and somehow proposed to Queen Elizabeth."

"Did you say Bad Wolf?" the War Doctor cried, looking from Rose to someone only he could see.

The Ninth Doctor was looking at Rose with shock, and perhaps admiration. That she would do such a stupidly brave thing in order to save _him_ was beyond his comprehension. He held her tight, not noticing the pained glances Ten and Eleven were sending their way.

"Yeah, he did. Bad Wolf creates herself, and scatters clues throughout time and space before rescuing us from the Daleks," the Metacrisis Doctor picked up the story. "I go by Doctor John Noble these days. Ten lost a hand in a sword fight just after regenerating, and when a Dalek shot him, months later, he poured his regeneration energy into said hand, which my brilliant best mate Donna touched, creating an instantaneous, two-way, human-Time Lord biological metacrisis. That's how I was born. Then the Daleks tried to destroy all reality, I destroyed _them_, and the Oncoming Hypocrite over there decided that I was too dangerous to keep, and stranded me in a parallel universe with Rose."

Ten flinched at the moniker, while Nine turned furious eyes to the pinstriped Doctor.

"You did WHAT?"

"He destroyed them all without a second thought!" cried Ten defensively.

"A Dalek fleet!" Nine shouted, "We did that and worse, or have you forgotten so easily? And how was any of that Rose's fault, for you to abandon her like that?"

"Don't say that," Ten said quietly, and his eyes burned. "Don't _ever _say that. You don't know what was happening. I lost Rose and Donna on the same day, so _do not judge me_ without knowing all the facts."

"Wait a minute, what happened to Donna?" the older Rose asked urgently.

"My brain was killing her," Twelve answered heavily, and several people jumped. They'd forgotten he was there. "Humans simply can't hold all of the data in a telepath's head, they'd explode. I had to remove all her memories of me, the TARDIS, and all of the wonderful things she did, to save her life."

Eleven's eyes were suspiciously shiny as he took up the narrative. "She begged me not to, but it was that or watch her die. So she's back home with Wilf and her mum now, and she doesn't know that she saved the world."

For a moment, all of the Doctors, even those who had never met Donna, held a moment of silence for their lost companion. John Noble looked sick.

"So," the younger Rose said finally, "He dumped you both in a parallel world for killing some Daleks," she clarified, pointing from Ten to the Nobles, "and then what happened? How are you here, and who are the kids?"

The answer to the last was a bit obvious, but since it was _her_ future, Rose was eager to confirm it.

"Well, I suddenly found myself with only one heart, one life, and fabulous hair, standing on a beach in Norway with the woman I loved, and a baby TARDIS too young to fly. I did what any sane Time Lord would do, and asked her to marry me!" John Noble replied, smiling at the younger Rose. "Rose Tyler, I present my wife of eight years, Rose Noble, our son Wilfred Tyler Noble, and our daughter Donna Jane Noble."

Little Donna waved, then put her thumb back in her mouth.

"We were in the garden when the portal opened up and a fez came through," Rose Noble explained. "We could hear voices on the other end, but they were too faint to make out, so we just jumped in."

"Right, if we could finish up these introductions," Twelve ordered, breaking up the moment as all of the Doctors admired 'their' son and daughter.

"You're quite grumpy, do you know that?" Ten told him, and the War Doctor shook his head. "Right, so, before the metacrisis situation, I was on a planet with Donna and Martha, and they cloned me without my consent to make a soldier for this war they were having. That clone is Jenny, whom I thought dead until today, but since she came with you, I guess you found her alive and well. Nice one, older self."

Jenny shot her clone-father a thumbs up.

"Oh, it's my turn," Eleven said suddenly, jumping to his feet and grinning. "Okay...Sandshoes here took a lethal dose of radiation for Wilf Mott—lovely that you named your son after him, well done—and after saying goodbye to all of our living companions, regenerated into me. I crashed the TARDIS into Amelia Pond's house, the TARDIS had a bit of an upgrade, and I discovered the delights of fish sticks and custard."

Almost everyone looked at him in disgust, all but little Wilfred Noble.

"What? It tasted good! You never know what the new taste buds will go for!" Eleven protested. "Anyhow, I'd just picked up Clara for a dose of adventure in 2013, when Kate Stewart had the TARDIS brought to the Tower of London, where I discovered an Undergallery created by Elizabeth the First, as well as the amazing travelling fez. Then the portal appeared, and I jumped through, leaving my companion back in the twenty-first century."

"Excellent, well done. I am your thirteenth regeneration," the man in blue told them all. "Or the Twelfth Doctor, if you like. I was born on Trenzalore, after centuries of defending a town called Christmas it in _his_ body," he explained, pointing to Eleven. "The power from that regeneration wiped out every Dalek, Cyberman, and Weeping Angel surrounding the planet, so yes," he added, looking at Ten, "you _are_ a bit of a hypocrite. I won't tell you all just _how_ I received a new regeneration cycle, but after today, I've a feeling you will know. You just won't remember," he finished practically.

The curly-haired woman at his side cleared her throat.

"Ah yes. Some of you have met her, and most of you have not. This is Professor River Song, an archaeologist, assassin, time-traveller, and the most ridiculously complex woman you will ever know. She is the child of two former companions and the TARDIS, so she can regenerate like a Time Lord and knows how to fly the old girl. The three of us were on a picnic celebrating my birthday when the portal opened."

"How old are you?" asked Eight curiously.

"Oh, who knows?" Twelve hedged. "Somewhere around two thousand, four hundred, I should think."

"Looking good, though, Doc," Jack called out, and Nine punched him lightly.

"Shut it, Jack."

"Oh, leave him alone!" Ten chided Nine. "He wasn't even talking to you!"

"I have nothing to say to you," Nine replied angrily, holding Rose's hand tightly. "You do not abandon your companions in a _parallel universe _and call yourself the Doctor, especially after they look into the Time Vortex to save your life!"

An argument broke out as Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, and the Metacrisis shouted at each other, using Gallifreyan insults in the most creative ways. Rose, Jenny, and Jack wandered over to the Noble family, saying hello to the kids and trying to ignore the commotion.

In another corner, Twelve rubbed at his temples as River patted his back soothingly.

"This is why I hate running into my younger selves," he muttered to the War Doctor. "It is impossible to do it without a fight. They're worse than teenagers!"

"I don't understand why she wanted me to see this," the other replied. "So Gallifrey burns, but I survive, have a mid-life crisis and a couple of regenerations who won't even _look _at me, drop off a metacrisis so he can start a family, have a clone daughter, and destroy Daleks over and over. What is the point of it all?"

"You might find this hard to believe, but you'll see," Twelve told him. "Cover your ears."

The War Doctor and River did so without question.

"SHUT UP!" yelled the Twelfth Doctor, making his younger selves jump. "I've had it with you lot! Enough! We're in a bloody cell and all you can do is bring up mistakes you've made in the past! Now let's work on saving England from the Zygons, and if you can't do it without insults, you don't talk at all."

"Yeah," Jack whispered to Rose and Jenny. "I'd still hit it."

"Ewwwwwww," Jenny cried. "Jack, that's my _dad_!"

The Time Agent shrugged, unrepentant, as the Eleventh Doctor picked up a bit of metal and started scratching a pillar.

"What are you doing?" Nine called out to him, confused.

"Getting us out," Eleven answered without looking back.

"Oh, right. You were at the Tower of London in the future!" Eight cried, realizing why Eleven had been so eager to come to the Tower. "Brilliant!"

"Yep. I'm leaving a message for Clara."

"This is going to cause some massive anomalies," John Noble said worriedly. "Seven of us in one room, in one time period? Yeesh."

"Daddy, what's an alomaly?" asked Freddie, tugging at his father's trousers.

"Basically, it means that weird things start to happen," his mother explained.

"So, an ordinary day with the Doctor, then," younger Rose said, grinning.

Meanwhile, Eight was busy scanning the door with his screwdriver.

"The sonic won't work on that, it's too primitive," Ten warned him.

"Then we should ask for a better quality of door, so we can escape," Eight answered. "Perhaps steel?"

River leaned in close to hear her husband's comment.

"Did you know that I added a wood setting to my screwdriver, finally?"

She chuckled, pulling down Twelve's head for a quick kiss.

"In theory," the War Doctor told Eight, "we can trigger an isolated sonic shift among the molecules, and the door should disintegrate."

"We'd have to calculate the exact harmonic resonance of the entire structure down to a subatomic level," Eight argued. "Even the sonic would take years."

"No, it would take centuries," Ten corrected.

"We might as well get started, then," said the War Doctor conversationally. "Pass the timey-wimey, eh?"

It didn't escape his notice that Ten could barely look at him.

"What is it that makes you so afraid of me?" he asked finally.

"Not afraid," replied the Tenth Doctor. "Ashamed. We all remember what you did, what _we _did."

"Ending the Time War, you mean?" Eight asked, wrapping his head around that thought. How ironic that he, the Time Lord who avoided the War as much as he could, would be the one to end it!

"Of course he means ending the Time War!" Eleven chimed in, abandoning his carving.

"Tell me, then," the War Doctor asked quietly, encouraged by his invisible companion "Did you ever count?"

"Count what?" Nine asked.

"How many children were on Gallifrey that day."

"No idea," Eleven said quickly.

"Why torture ourselves further by counting how many innocent lives we ended?" Nine asked, haunted. "Isn't it enough to hear their screams in our nightmares?"

"Two point four seven billion," Ten supplied, glaring at his successor. "Is four hundred years all it takes for you to forget?"

"I moved on," the man in the bow tie insisted, immovable.

"You filthy liar," Twelve objected softly. "You haven't moved on, and we both know it. Do you know why? Because _I_ haven't forgotten. You just bury it in the back of your mind, like a child."

"You see?" the Moment told the War Doctor softly. "They are the men you become if you destroy Gallifrey. The man who hates what he's done so much that won't even look in a mirror. The man who regrets what he's done enough to try to save a _Dalek fleet_, no matter how futile the effort. The man who pretends to forget, because he can't ever move on. The Moment is coming, and the Moment is me. You have to decide."

"No," said the War Doctor suddenly, and all of the other Doctors except Twelve looked confused.

"No?"

"Just no," repeated the warrior, making Eleven laugh.

"Is something funny?" Ten asked, indignant. "Did I miss a funny thing?"

"Sorry, it just occurred to me," said Eleven, grinning, "this is what I'm like when I'm alone."

"Self-loathing and all," Nine agreed, disgusted.

"It's the same screwdriver," the Moment told the War Doctor. "Same software, different case."

"Four hundred years," said the warrior.

"Sorry?"

"At a software level, they're all the same device, aren't they? Same software, different case!" the War Doctor repeated.

"So?" asked the Ninth Doctor.

"So, it would take centuries for the screwdriver to calculate how to disintegrate the door. Scanning the door, implanting the calculation as a permanent subroutine in the software architecture, and, if you really are me, with your leather jacket and sandshoes and your dicky bow, and that screwdriver is still mine, that calculation is still going on."

Nine checked his screwdriver. "Still running," he informed them.

"Yeah, still going," said Ten, lifting his own screwdriver to his ear and listening.

"Calculation complete," said Eleven gleefully. "Hey, four hundred years in four seconds. We may have had our differences, which is frankly odd in the circumstances, but, I tell you what, boys. We are incredibly clever."

Before they could congratulate themselves too much, the door opened and a brunette in a red dress stumbled in. It was clearly a time-traveller, judging by the clothes and the vortex manipulator on her wrist.

"How did you do that?" demanded Eleven.

"It wasn't locked."

"Right," said Eleven slowly, and both Roses groaned.

"So...you're all Doctors," Clara said, eyes wide.

"Yep. You've met them before, remember?"

"A bit," she answered. "Nice suit!" she told Ten. "You too," she added, sending Twelve a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

"Hang on," Clara said suddenly. "Seven Doctors in one cell, and _none_ of you thought to try the door?"

"It should have been locked," the War Doctor said, shrugging.

"I knew it wasn't, but the children had some issues to work through," Twelve told Clara with a smirk. "Besides, even if it hadn't been locked, I finally added a wood setting to my sonic."

"No!" cried Ten and the Metacrisis together, gazing at Twelve's screwdriver with envy.

"Oh yes. I'm _through_ being defeated by wooden doors and cages!" cried the Twelfth Doctor dramatically.

"Unless he wants to see you squirm," Clara told the younger Doctors. "Then he'll let you struggle and keep his wood app to himself."

"It should have been locked," repeated Eight.

"Exactly. Why wasn't it locked?" Eleven said, supporting his younger self.

"Because I was fascinated to see what you would do upon escaping," Elizabeth said, appearing suddenly. "I understand you're rather fond of this world. It's time I think you saw what's going to happen to it."

She led them to the Zygons' control centre, explaining that their race had lost its planet to the Time War, leaving them in need of a new home.

To their surprise, Elizabeth ordered a Zygon to touch a glass cube, which led to the same Zygon appearing in one of the 3D landscapes that would be in the Undergallery centuries later.

"That's him! That's the Zygon in the picture now!" Clara realised.

"It's not a picture," corrected the Eighth Doctor gently. "It's a stasis cube. Time Lord art. Frozen instance in time; bigger on the inside, but could be deployed as—"

"—Suspended animation!" finished John Noble. "Oh, that's _very_ good. The Zygons all pop inside the pictures, wait a few centuries till the planet's a bit more interesting, and then out they come."

"You see, Clara," Eleven continued, "they're stored in the paintings in the Undergallery, like cup-a-soups. Except you add time, if you can picture that. Nobody could picture that. Forget I said cup-a-soups."

"And now the world is worth conquering," Clara figured out. "So the Zygons are invading the future from the past."

"Exactly," Twelve confirmed.

"And do you know why I know that you're a fake?" Ten asked Elizabeth suddenly. "Because you're such a bad copy. It's not just the smell, or the unconvincing hair, or the atrocious teeth, or the eyes just a bit too close together, or the breath that could stun a horse. It's because my Elizabeth, the _real_ Elizabeth, would never be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly, _why_ would you do that?"

"Because it's not my plan," the Queen of England replied. "And I _am_ the real Elizabeth."

"Okay. So, backtracking a moment just to lend context to my earlier remarks," Ten said quickly.

"My twin is dead in the forest. I am accustomed to taking precautions," the woman explained, showing them a dagger hidden under her skirts. "These Zygon creatures never even considered that it was _me_ who survived rather than their own commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind."

"Zygons?" Clara asked.

"Men!" Elizabeth replied.

"She's got a point," Rose Noble told Rose Tyler, who nodded in agreement. "Definitely human."

"You actually killed one of them?" Clara wanted to confirm.

"I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman," Elizabeth said, probably repeating what she'd heard a thousand times, "but at the time, so did the Zygon. The future of my kingdom is imperilled, Doctor. Can I rely on your service?"

"Well, I'm going to need my TARDIS," the pinstriped Doctor answered.

"It has been procured already."

"Ah."

"But first, my love, you have a promise to keep."

A few hours later, the time-travellers found themselves witnessing the wedding of Queen Elizabeth the First to the Doctor—one of them, anyway. John Noble and the Ninth Doctor held their Roses' hands a bit tighter than usual, while River and Jenny looked on in amusement.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," said the clergyman.

"Woohoo!" cheered Clara, Jenny, Freddie, and Donna.

"You may kiss the bride."

The kiss was a bit much, especially for John. He kissed his own wife instead.

"Is there a lot of this in the future?" the War Doctor asked Nine and Twelve, whom he seemed to like more than his younger-looking successors.

"I dunno," shrugged Nine. "Not for me."

"It does happen more often, yes," Twelve admitted, and River Song grinned wickedly.

"Godspeed, my love!" cried Elizabeth, letting her new husband run into the TARDIS.

"I will be right back!"

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" whispered Eleven.

"Right," said Twelve, leading the others back to Ten's TARDIS, "back to the future."

The Eighth and War Doctors admired the inside of the TARDIS, as did the Noble family.

"You've let this place go a bit," the warrior commented.

"Ah yes, it's his grunge phase. He grows out of it," Eleven said, and Nine frowned at him.

"Hey, I quite like the grungy Doctor," Jack objected, and Rose had to agree.

"Don't you listen to them, Sexy," Ten told the TARDIS, stroking the console.

"Oi, need some time alone with the old girl?" the Metacrisis teased. The Tenth Doctor let go of the console as though it had burned him.

"Gentlemen," Eleven called out happily, and they all stopped to look at him. "This is the first time since we stole this ship that we have enough Time Lords to man it. Shall we just...savour the moment for a bit?"

They did, some more sombrely than others. The TARDIS hummed in joy, making little Freddie and Donna laugh with delight. Even Jenny looked awed, having never seen this face of the TARDIS before.

As the Eleventh Doctor set coordinates, an alarm sounded and Nine got a sharp electric shock.

"Ow!" he said, sucking on his finger. "The desktop is glitching."

"Seven of us from different times, one from a different universe," Twelve explained. "It's trying to compensate."

"Oi, look!" Eleven said to Ten, excited. "The round things!"

"I love the round things," Ten said fondly.

"What _are_ the round things?" the Metacrisis Doctor asked.

"No idea," replied Ten and Eleven, making Nine shake his head in exasperation.

"Dicky bow, fix the friction contrafibulator, yeah?" Twelve ordered, running to the opposite side of the console.

"Stabilized!" cried Eleven.

The desktop changed again, reverting to the TARDIS the Eleventh Doctor and Clara knew and loved.

"Oh, you've redecorated," said Nine, looking around curiously. He and Ten exchanged glances.

"I don't like it," they said together.

"Too much cold metal for my taste," Eight chimed in.

"Agreed," said the War Doctor. "On the other hand, your desktop was so elegant that I was scared to touch things," he admitted, and the Eighth Doctor laughed.

"Ah yes, the lovely wooden panelling and brass," Nine reminisced. "Companions loved it."

"Is that the Time Lord equivalent of 'Chicks dig it?'" Jack said, his eyebrows raised.

"Go down Memory Lane later!" Eleven interrupted. "Listen, we're going to the National Gallery. The Zygons are underneath it," Eleven told them.

"No!" Clara contradicted. "UNIT HQ. They followed us there in the Black Archive."

The Doctors turned to stare at her.

"Okay...so you've heard of that, then."

"We need to send a message to Kate Stewart," ordered the Eleventh Doctor. He fiddled with some controls. "Science leads, Kate. Is that what you meant? Is that what your father meant?"

Everyone on the TARDIS heard a female voice reply. "Doctor?"

"Space-Time Telegraph, Kate," the man in the bow tie explained. "A gift from me to your father, hotline straight to the TARDIS. I know about the Black Archive and I know about the security protocol. Kate, please. Please tell me you are not about to do something unbelievably stupid."

"That's the Brigadier's daughter," Twelve told his closest neighbours, Eight and Nine. They looked up sharply.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Kate answered. "Switch it off."

"Not as sorry as _you_ will be!" the Tenth Doctor objected. "This is not a decision you will ever be able to live with!"

"Kate, we're trying to bring the TARDIS in," the Eleventh Doctor went on. "Why can't we land?"

"I said, switch it off!"

"No, Kate, please!" cried Eleven. "Just listen to me!"

"The Tower of London, it's totally TARDIS-proof," Nine observed, worried.

"How can they do that?" asked the younger Rose.

"Alien technology plus human stupidity," the Twelfth Doctor explained, shooting a vaguely apologetic look to Clara. "Trust me, it's unbeatable."

The Eighth Doctor suddenly noticed a stasis cube on the console. "We don't need to land."

Ten sighed. "I know you have memory problems, but try and keep up. We _do_ need to land."

"No we don't," the War Doctor said, cottoning on. "There is another way."

He held out the stasis cube. Slowly, the other Doctors grinned.

"We really are clever," the Eleventh Doctor told them happily. "Right! Sandshoes, get Sam McGillop of UNIT on the phone. His number is programmed into the TARDIS contacts," he ordered, and Ten scowled at the nickname but got to work.

"McGillop," said a voice after three rings.

"Take a look at your phone and confirm who you're talking to," the Doctor in the bow tie ordered.

"But...that's not possible," McGillop replied, bewildered. "I was just—"

"You were just talking to me. I know. I'm a time-traveller, figure it out. I need you to send the Gallifrey Falls painting to the Black Archive. Understood?"

"Understood, sir," the UNIT man answered. "But why would I take it there?"

"That would be telling," the Eleventh Doctor said mysteriously. "Get it done, good man, and you just might save the Earth. Off you pop."

"Yes sir."

The call disconnected.

"Who would want a picture of the Fall of Arcadia?" the Ninth Doctor asked thoughtfully. "Doesn't that seem a bit too contrived to you all? And how does it end up on Earth, anyway?"

"Spoilers," chimed the Twelfth Doctor, River Song, and Jenny.

"I _hate_ that word," Ten muttered under his breath.

"For now, let's just say a friend brought it," Twelve suggested, programming a new destination. "We need to get back to Arcadia and smash our way out of the cube."

The Metacrisis Doctor shuddered, making Rose, the older Rose, and Clara look at him in concern.

"I'm fine," he said wearily. "I just never thought I'd go back there."

"Me neither," the Ninth Doctor told him, his eyes dark.

Little Donna, sensing his unease, toddled over to Nine and embraced his trouser leg. The smile he gave her in return was shaky, but genuine.

"I'll be alright, little one," he assured her, and Donna gave him the Tyler grin he loved.

"You're a big ol' softie, aren't you, Doc," Jack said, breaking up the tension with a grin. He slung an arm around the Ninth Doctor's shoulders.

"Shouldn't the Battle of Arcadia be time-locked?" the Eleventh Doctor asked Twelve, frowning. "The time lock has been broken before, but those circumstances were nothing like this."

"It's the Moment," Twelve explained. "She's in charge of all this, so with her driving, we can go anywhere; parallel universes," he nodded at the Nobles, "time-locked battles, or our own past and future."

They arrived at their destination. Twelve took charge, turning to his younger selves and former companions.

"We _are_ walking out into a war zone," he said seriously. "It can't be helped, so let's keep everyone safe and together. Not even the TARDIS is a safe place, not here. Children and humans in the centre, and Doctors surrounding them. No matter how much you miss Gallifrey, or want to see it for the first time, _do not stop to look_. Arcadia is crawling with Daleks, and they're not the half-insane Daleks some of you might know. Got it?"

"Got it, boss," said Jack, not joking for once. He was prepared to act as a human shield, if necessary.

"On we go, then," their leader called out, taking a deep breath and opening the door. "Everyone out!"

The fifteen travellers emerged in Arcadia's ancient marketplace. The noise of Dalek ships, gunfire, and bombs was deafening. Little Donna whimpered in her mother's arms, while Eight tried to suppress horror as he saw his home planet ripped apart. The others stepped back into the stuff of their nightmares, but kept their eyes forward. River Song was a bit unsteady on her impractical heels, but she never complained.

"This way," the Eleventh Doctor said, trying to keep quiet.

It wasn't enough. As they made their way to the place shown in the stasis cube, three Daleks rounded a corner.

"EXTERMINATE!" they roared. "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

Ten, Eleven, and Twelve aimed their sonic screwdrivers at the first Dalek, which made it explode as all three struck.

"ALERT! ALERT! THE DOCTOR IS DETECTED!" the second Dalek shrieked.

"Really?" Nine growled. "Then why aren't you fleeing, Dalek?"

"YOU ARE NOT THE DOCTOR," the Dalek responded, sounding confused. "BUT SCANS INDICATE YOU ARE THE DOCTOR."

"SCANS INDICATE THE PRESENCE OF SEVEN DOCTORS," the last Dalek added. "EXTERMINATE!"

Before the verbose pepperpots could shoot, the Doctors split up on Twelve's signal. Eight, Nine, and the War Doctor shot the Dalek on their left, while Ten, Eleven, Twelve, and the Metacrisis shot the other. Seven screwdrivers proved too much for the Daleks, which burst into flames. The 'head' of the last Dalek flew off, shattering the stasis cube.

"Go! Before any more Daleks come," the Eighth Doctor said, making way for the Noble children, the women, and Jack.

"Re-seal the status cube as soon as we're through," Nine asked Twelve, "so they can't follow."

"On it," the oldest Doctor answered, heading to the control. The last time-traveller (Eleven) stepped into the Black Archive, and Twelve sealed the cube behind him.

"Right," said Eleven brightly, stepping closer to the action. "Sorry about the Dalek, hello."

"Hi," added Ten. "I'm the Doctor."

"As are we all," the War Doctor finished, pointing to himself, Eight, Nine, the Metacrisis, and Twelve.

"Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, what in the name of sanity are you doing?" the Eleventh Doctor asked.

"The countdown can only be halted at my personal command. There's nothing you can do," Kate replied, determined.

"Except make both of you agree to halt it," the Tenth Doctor said casually.

She scoffed. "Not even for seven of you."

"You're about to murder millions of people," the War Doctor reminded her.

"To save billions! How many times have you made that calculation?" Kate cried.

"Once," the Ninth Doctor answered, and regret burned in his face.

"It turned me into the man I am now," Eleven added. "I'm not even sure who that is anymore."

"You tell yourself it's justified," argued Ten, "but it's a lie. Because what I did that day was wrong. Just wrong. And because I got it wrong, I'm going to make you get it right."

"How?"

"Any second now, you're going to stop that countdown," the Tenth Doctor assured her. "Both of you, together."

"And then," the Eleventh Doctor told them, "you're going to negotiate the most perfect treaty of all time."

"Safeguards all around, completely fair on both sides," John Noble added.

"And the key to perfect negotiation?" Twelve asked, grinning wolfishly.

"Not knowing what side you're on," the Eighth Doctor answered. "So, for the next few hours, until we decide to let you out—"

"—No one in this room will be able to remember if they're human or Zygon," Nine finished.

"I love it when they finish each other's sentences," River murmured to Jenny, who rolled her eyes.

Eleven jumped onto the table and fiddled with the memory filter. Alarmed, both Kates cancelled the detonation.

The Doctors grinned.

"I know he _says_ he's a genius, but he really is," Jack said admiringly to Rose. "I'm jealous, Rosie. You're going to _marry_ the guy in your future, or at least, a half-human version of him. I wonder which parts are the human ones," he added, lowering his voice.

It wasn't enough.

"Jack!" cried the man in the grey pinstripes. "If you can't keep your nose out of the gutter, stay away from my future wife!"

As the Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Doctors helped the humans and Zygons negotiate, the rest of the travellers split into smaller groups. Rose Noble found her way to the canteen and returned with tea, earning thanks from the rest. Clara returned the favour by finding biscuits for the children. Once fed, they were eager for adventure. Jack, River, and the two Roses took them to the Doctor's display, where all of his faces except Twelve's, and all of his companions, were photographed, mapped, and cross-referenced.

In the meantime, Clara sat with Eight, the War Doctor, Nine, and John Noble.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hello," replied the warrior.

"I'm Clara Oswald. We haven't really met yet."

"I look forward to it," he told her with a small smile. Eight chimed agreement. "Is there a problem?"

Clara sat across from them. "The Doctor—my Doctor—he's always talking about the day he did it. The day he wiped out the Time Lords to stop the war."

"One would," the War Doctor answered.

"You wouldn't. Because you haven't done it yet. It's still in your future," Clara said gently.

"It's in my past, and I don't talk about it," the Ninth Doctor argued, sombre. "It's too recent, too raw to discuss with anyone."

"He regrets it," the Impossible Girl continued. "I see it in his eyes every day. He'd do anything to change it."

"Well, of course he does, so would I!" the Metacrisis cried.

"And I," Nine agreed.

"Including saving all these people," the War Doctor insisted. "How many worlds has his regret saved, do you think? Look over there. Humans and Zygons working together in peace. How did you know?"

"Your eyes," Clara admitted with a smile. "They're so much younger."

"Then, all things considered," the warrior told her, "it's time I grew up. I've seen all I needed. The moment has come."

He set his teacup down on its saucer, and turned to someone they couldn't see. "I'm ready."

"Who's there? Who are you talking to?" Clara asked, confused.

He was gone.

"Where did he go?"

"Back to Hell," John replied, closing his eyes. "Back to the Time War. Today is the day he ends it."

"Is there truly no other way?" the Eighth Doctor asked the Ninth, desperate. "Must I really become the murderer of my own people, the last Time Lord?"

"There's nothing left," the Metacrisis answered, and his eyes were bright with tears. "Every weapon we could throw at the Daleks, we did. Had we not done it, the War would still be going on today."

"Right!" cried the Eleventh Doctor, clapping his hands loudly enough to startle the whole room. "We have a peace agreement! Well done, gentlemen, ladies, Doctors, and Zygons!"

The Twelfth Doctor looked at the empty red chair—where the War Doctor had been sitting—and his eyes widened in realisation.

"He's gone," he said, pulling his fellow negotiators to their feet. "If you'll excuse us, we have some Doctor business to take care of.

"What's wrong?" asked Rose Tyler, appearing with Freddie on her shoulders.

"He's gone to end the War. We need to go," her future husband told her, taking Rose Noble's hand. "Kerxityor, now."

* * *

Back in the abandoned barn on Kerxityor, the War Doctor stood alone with the Moment and its sentient interface.

"You wanted a big red button," she said, and a big red button appeared at the top of the Moment box. "One big bang. No more Time Lords, no more Daleks. Are you sure?"

"I was sure when I came in here," the War Doctor answered. "There is no other way."

"You've seen the men you will become."

"Those men," he sighed. "Extraordinary."

"They were you," the Moment protested.

"No, they are the Doctor."

"You're the Doctor, too."

The warrior shook his head. "No. Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame, whatever the cost."

He held out his hand over the button, hesitating. The sound of Gallifreyan children's laughter rang in his ears.

"You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning. That sound brings hope wherever it goes."

"Yes," mused the Time Lord. "Yes, I like to think it does."

"To anyone who hears it, Doctor. Anyone, however lost," the Moment added.

An unmistakable wheezing sound filled the room.

"Even you."

To the Doctor's surprise, no fewer than _six_ TARDISes appeared in the barn, side by side. Five looked like blue police boxes, with slight differences to mark the passage of time. The last TARDIS looked like a garden shed with a missing wall.

Out stepped the Doctors, companions and all. None could see the row of time machines without a bit of awe, especially the Noble children, who had heard so much about the blue box.

"Go away, all of you," the War Doctor ordered. "This is for me."

"Listen," the Tenth Doctor answered, "these events should be time-locked. That they're _not _means that the Moment wanted us here."

"Clever boy," the Moment breathed, smirking.

"Go back to your lives," the warrior insisted, ignoring them. "Go and be the Doctor that I could never be. Make it worthwhile."

"All those years, I buried you in my memory," the Tenth Doctor said, coming closer.

"All those years, pretending you didn't exist," the Eleventh Doctor added.

"And at the same time, blaming you for every bit of anger and darkness in me," the Ninth Doctor spoke up.

"Pretending you weren't the Doctor," the Metacrisis joined in, "when you were the Doctor more than anybody else."

"You were the Doctor on the day it wasn't possible to get it right," Eleven went on.

"But this time," the Eighth Doctor chimed in.

"This time, you don't have to do it alone," the Twelfth Doctor finished, with a sympathetic smile for his war-torn younger self.

Together, the seven Doctors put their hands on the red button.

"Thank you," whispered the War Doctor.

"What we do today," said Ten, "is not out of fear or hatred. It is done because there is no other way."

"And it is done in the name of the many lives we are failing to save," Eleven added solemnly.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor in the bow tie caught Clara shaking her head.

"What is it? What?"

"Nothin'," Clara replied, though her grip on River's and Rose's hands tightened. Even Jack's eyes were suspiciously watery.

"No, it's something," insisted Eleven. "Tell me."

"You told me you wiped out your own people," Clara said at last. "I just—I never pictured you _doing_ it, that's all."

Deep down, both Roses agreed. They knew he'd done it in the past, but they had never imagined the manic, adventurous, pinstriped Doctor, or even the lonely, big-eared, leather jacket Doctor doing this.

"Take a closer look," the Moment told the War Doctor.

Suddenly, the barn vanished. They were seeing Gallifrey from the very surface of the war-torn planet.

"What's happening?" asked the younger Rose, trembling.

"Nothing, it's just a projection," John assured her.

"These are the people you're going to burn?" Clara asked, crying.

"There isn't anything we can do!" the Ninth Doctor cried, frantic. "Don't you think we would have done it if there had been?"

"He's right," the Eleventh Doctor said. "There isn't another way, there never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the whole universe burn."

"Look at you," Clara insisted, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Seven of you! The renegade, the warrior, the lonely god, the hero, the human, the father, and you."

"And what am I?" Eleven asked.

"Have you really forgotten?"

"Maybe, yes."

"We've got enough warriors. Any old idiot can be a hero," Clara said earnestly.

"Then what do I do?"

"What you've always done. Be a doctor. You told me once that the name you chose was a promise. What was the promise?"

"Never cruel or cowardly," the Ninth Doctor began, slowly.

"Never give up," the War Doctor added.

"Never give in," said Eight, Ten, and Eleven together.

The moment ended the projection, leaving them back in the barn.

"You're not actually suggesting that we change our own personal history?" the Metacrisis Doctor asked the others.

"We change history all the time. I'm suggesting far worse," Eleven said.

"What, exactly?" asked the War Doctor.

"Gentlemen," Eleven said firmly, "I have had four hundred years to think about this. I've changed my mind."

With his sonic screwdriver, he pushed the red button back into the box.

"But there's still a billion billion Daleks up there, attacking!" protested the Ninth Doctor.

"Yeah, there is, there is," Eleven replied.

"But there's something those billion billion Daleks don't know," the Tenth Doctor said, catching up.

"Because if they did," added the Twelfth Doctor, "they'd probably send for reinforcements."

He beamed at them with the pride of a grandfather, and suddenly, the younger Doctors realised he'd known all along.

"You knew!" cried the Eighth Doctor. "All this time, you knew we didn't really destroy Gallifrey!"

"I did," Twelve admitted. "Perhaps the Moment is rewarding me for all of the times I came here and left, still believing I had killed them all."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, handsome," said entity flirted, but only the War Doctor heard it.

"So...why would the Daleks send for reinforcements?" Clara interrupted, confused. "I don't mean to sound like a Dalek, but...explain?"

Eleven laughed. "This time, Clara, there are _seven_ of us."

"Oh," said Ten slowly, his eyes going wide. "Oh, yes! Yes, that is good. That's brilliant!"

"That is fantastic," Nine added, with a grin wide enough to split his face.

"I've been thinking about this for centuries," the Eleventh Doctor told them.

"She didn't just show me any old future," the War Doctor realised. "She showed me exactly the future I needed to see!"

"Now you're getting it," the Moment said happily.

"The Moment?" asked Eight, puzzled.

"Oh, Bad Wolf Girl, I could kiss you!" shouted the warrior.

Just as the Moment answered with a "Yeah, that's going to happen," the Tenth and Metacrisis Doctors turned to gaze at their predecessor.

"Did you just say _Bad Wolf_?" the pinstriped Doctor asked. "You can _see_ her?"

"It's the Moment, taking the form of Rose as the Bad Wolf," the Twelfth Doctor explained.

The two Roses looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Sooooo," Jack piped up, slinging an arm around each of them, "you ladies become so special to the Doc, that self-aware weapons of mass destruction use your face to talk to him. I dunno about these gentlemen, but I find that incredibly attractive."

"Jack, shut up," Nine ordered.

"So what's the plan?" Clara asked curiously.

"The Dalek fleets are surrounding Gallifrey, firing on it constantly," the War Doctor began.

"The Sky Trench is holding, but what if the whole planet just disappeared?" the Tenth Doctor went on.

"Tiny bit of an ask," the brunette replied, looking at him in confusion.

"If Gallifrey disappears, the Daleks would be firing on each other," the Metacrisis elaborated. "They'd destroy themselves in their own crossfire."

"Gallifrey would be gone," Nine finished, his eyes bright with hope, "and the Daleks destroyed, so it would look to the rest of the universe like they annihilated each other."

"But where would Gallifrey be?" Freddie Noble asked.

"Frozen!" said his father in a stage-whisper. "Hidden away in a moment in time."

"Exactly," Eleven agreed.

"Like a Time Lord painting," the War Doctor told the boy.

"Cool!" cried Freddie and Donna.

"Doctor, will you marry me?" Jack said, half-serious.

"Is this really the time, Captain?" River Song objected, although she was grinning. "Anyway, which one?"

"I don't know, any of them," Jack replied easily. "They're all incredible."

"The one in the grey suit is mine," Rose Noble told Jack cheerfully. "Paws off, Captain Beefcake."

The Time Agent and future head of Torchwood Three wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Threesome? Or foursome, if we get his twin involved."

"What's a foursome, Mummy?"

Rose Tyler Noble closed her eyes. When she opened them, Jack swore he could see a bit of gold in their depths.

"Jack, I'm going to kill you."

"And I'll help you," John added, glaring at the captain.

"Kill him later!" Nine shouted impatiently. "We have a world to save!"

"Right!" Eleven said. "We need to get in touch with _all_ of our past selves. Granddad, can you ask the Moment to take care of that?"

"How am _I_ Granddad when you're 400 years older than me?" grumbled the warrior.

"Oh, go easy on him," the Moment told him. "He's gone a bit senile in his old age."

"Can you do it?" the War Doctor asked.

"Oh yes," she replied easily, opening seven more portals. Unlike the swirling light of the others, these opened like windows into the Doctor's past, and allowed him to see his old face.

"Oh, _now_ it's a party!" cried Eleven, startling Four out of whatever he'd been doing to his console. "Hello there!"

It only took seconds for all seven younger Doctors to notice the windows in space and time.

"Right, hello again, old faces! To make this really quick and simple, we need your help in the future, from the past, to save Gallifrey from destruction. You won't remember doing this, but what you do now will determine the future of our whole planet, and save billions of lives."

"What do you need?" asked Five quickly.

Twelve took over. "We are going to hide Gallifrey in a stasis cube, but the calculations will take centuries. We need _you_ to start," he told One, "and we will need all of our TARDISes working together. Drop whatever you're doing and call High Command. You'll find that the Moment has lifted the time lock for us, so you will be in the correct time and place already."

"Good gracious me," the First Doctor muttered. "Either I've become incredibly clever in my old age, or even more of a clown," he said, eyeing Eleven's dicky bow.

"Why not both?" Clara asked brightly.

The First Doctor's eyes widened in recognition. "You!"

Clara waved, grinning. "I hope you like the TARDIS I recommended."

"Yes, it's all very nice," One replied, looking back down at his console. "But if we've got a planet to save, we should leave the reminiscing for later. Susan, hold down that button there," he ordered. "I'm starting the calculation now. Fellow Doctors, stand by."

"Susan!" whispered the War Doctor. His eyes raked the portal connecting them to One, but the teenager was not visible.

Nine placed a hand on his shoulder, commiserating. To Rose and Jack, he explained, "Susan was my granddaughter. She died in the Second Battle of Olyesti."

"Right!" interrupted the Twelfth Doctor, whose hand was held tightly in both of River's. "Doctors, back to your TARDISes, and call the Council. The calculation should be complete on your TARDIS or mine," he told Eleven, who nodded, "and we'll transmit the details to you. Get into orbit around Gallifrey."

The Doctors scattered. As the younger Doctors got to work, the Moment shut down their portals. The older Doctors simply walked to their ships. Clara followed Eleven, Rose and Jack followed Nine, and River and Jenny went into Twelve's TARDIS.

John Noble looked at his half-grown TARDIS, frowning. "I don't know if my ship can do this," he admitted. "She's still not done growing. I might not have the power."

"Come with me, then," Ten offered, and there was a depth of meaning to his words. The Metacrisis and Rose caught an apology in his brown eyes. "You're the Doctor as much as any of us. If we're going to save our home planet, you should be part of it."

John looked at Rose, communicating silently as married couples often did. She smiled brightly.

"Go on then!" she said, taking Freddie's hand. Donna ran ahead of them, picking out the correct TARDIS without any help from the others.

* * *

In the Citadel of Gallifrey, a small group of Time Lords met in a bunker.

"Another one," said Androgar.

"Are you sure the message is from him?" the General asked.

"Oh, yes."

"Why would he do that?"

On the display, the message GALLIFREY STANDS stood out loud and clear.

"What's the mad fool talking about now?" the General scoffed.

Before Androgar could answer, holo-monitors flickered to life as all of the Doctors called.

"Hello, hello, Gallifrey High Command, this is the Doctor speaking," Eleven began.

"Hello!" added Ten, "Also the Doctor. Can you hear me?"

"Also the Doctor," said the War Doctor, "standing ready."

"Another Doctor here," said Nine cheerfully, and Jack jumped into view to make a silly face.

"And another," Eight added, with good humour.

"Five of them," moaned the General. "All my worst nightmares at once."

"General, we have a plan," the pinstriped Doctor explained.

"We should point out at this moment, it is a fairly terrible plan," Eleven admitted.

"And most certainly won't work," Nine added.

"I was happy with fairly terrible," Ten complained.

"Sorry, just thinking out loud."

Androgar's and the General's heads spun.

"We're flying our thirteen TARDISes into your lower atmosphere," a new voice said. Twelve had arrived.

"We're positioned at equidistant intervals around the globe. Equidistant," Ten said to himself, "so grown up."

Rose Noble shook her head, grinning.

"We're just about ready to do it," the War Doctor told them.

"To do _what_?" the General asked.

"We're going to freeze Gallifrey," the Eleventh Doctor explained.

"Sorry, what?"

"Using our TARDISes," the Tenth Doctor clarified, "we're going to freeze Gallifrey in a single moment in time."

"You know, like the stasis cubes?" the War Doctor added. "A single moment in time, held in a parallel pocket universe."

"Except we're going to do it to a whole planet," the Ninth Doctor said.

"And all the people on it!" Freddie Noble spoke up, popping into view behind Ten.

The General resisted the urge to hang up on all of them. "What? Even if that were possible, which it isn't, why would you do such a thing?"

"Because the alternative is burning," Eleven told him.

"And I've seen that," Ten confessed.

"And I never want to see it again," Nine finished.

"We'd be lost in another universe, frozen in a single moment," the General objected. "We'd have nothing!"

"You would have your lives!" Nine replied.

"You would have hope!" cried Eleven. "And right now, that is _exactly_ what you don't have."

"It's delusional," the other Time Lord protested. "The calculations alone would take hundreds of years."

"Oh, hundreds and hundreds," the Eighth Doctor said cheerfully.

"But don't worry," the Tenth Doctor reassured him, "I started a _very_ long time ago."

Another holo-monitor flickered to life.

"Calling the War Council of Gallifrey," they heard, "This is the Doctor."

"You might say I've been doing this all my lives," the Twelfth Doctor said casually.

Androgar looked on in awe as every monitor in the War Room turned on, revealing a different face of the same Time Lord.

"Good luck."

"Standing by."

"Ready."

"Commencing calculations."

"—soon be there."

"—across the boundaries that divide one universe from another."

"Just got to lock on to these coordinates."

In his TARDIS, the Ninth Doctor grinned at his two companions. "You've got to admit, this is impressive."

"Multiply yourself into fourteen, save your planet," Rose said, nonchalant. "Just a bit, yeah. And we didn't even have to run, much."

"I didn't know when I was well off," the General muttered to Androgar. "All thirteen of them!"

"Actually, there are fourteen of us," the Metacrisis clarified, popping into view next to his twin.

"Sir!" cried Androgar. "The Daleks know that something is happening. They're increasing their firepower."

"Do it, Doctor," pleaded the General, hardly believing what he was saying. "Just do it."

"Okay, gentlemen," said Twelve. "The calculation is complete and we're ready. On my mark—three, two, one—"

"Geronimo!" shouted Eleven.

"Allons-y!" cried Ten, John, and Donna.

"Oh, for God's sake. Gallifrey stands!" the War Doctor shouted.

There was a moment in which thirteen TARDISes flew around Gallifrey, perfectly synced, and time seemed to stop. Then, with a brilliant flash of light, the orange planet disappeared. The Daleks kept firing, striking their own vessels on the opposite side of the world. As the Doctors watched through their monitors, the Moment pulled them out of the Time War.

Eight, Nine, the War Doctor, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve found their TARDISes redirected to the National Gallery in 2013. Once again, all of the police boxes lined up in a row. The Moment had also brought John's shed-TARDIS, which stood between Ten's and Eleven's.

There was a brief moment of silence as the Doctors and companions emerged from their ships. Then, Jack let out a loud whoop, and there was a flurry of frantic hugs, relieved laughter, and even tears.

"We did it!" cried Nine, hugging Rose tightly. "We did it!"

"Everybody lives, Doctor," she quoted, reciprocating the hug with a brilliant smile.

Clara and Jenny squealed, hugging each other and crying. River gave Eleven a well-earned kiss, under the jealous eye of Twelve. Eight picked up little Donna and spun her around, both laughing with delight.

"Well done, all of you," said a new voice, and fifteen heads turned to face a blonde figure in odd clothing.

"Another me?" Rose Tyler asked, puzzled.

"No," Ten reassured her. "That's the physical manifestation of the Moment, using your form as Bad Wolf."

"I mixed up past and future," the entity replied, shrugging. "Anyway, I wanted to say goodbye to all of you, and well done."

"We succeeded then?" Eleven wanted to know. "We really saved Gallifrey?"

The Moment's eyes flashed gold. With a cheeky look at River, she answered "Spoilers!"

"But—we won't remember any of this, will we?" Nine realised.

"No," the Twelfth Doctor replied. "Your time streams are out of sync. Dicky bow and I are the only ones who will retain it all. And perhaps the Nobles, since they're in a different universe and our rules don't apply to them."

"He's right," Bad Wolf confirmed. "As long as you are in this room, you will remember. When you get back into your TARDISes, you will return to what you were doing before I intervened, and forget all of this. So," she finished, "take your time. Farewell, Doctors."

She disappeared.

"I don't suppose we'll ever know if we actually succeeded," the War Doctor said, sitting and taking the tea Clara offered. "But at worst, we failed doing the right thing, as opposed to succeeding in doing the wrong."

"Life and soul, you are," the Ninth Doctor teased.

"What is the painting actually called?" the Metacrisis asked, looking at the Fall of Arcadia up close.

"There is some debate," the Twelfth Doctor explained. "Either _No More_ or _Gallifrey Falls_."

"Not very encouraging," the War Doctor grumbled.

"How did it get here, though?" asked Ten.

"Spoilers, sweetie," River Song replied, winking.

"Oh, come on! I'm not going to remember anyway!"

"Fine," Twelve agreed. "_I_ brought it here."

"You shouldn't have said," the Eighth Doctor said, smiling wryly. "There should always be some mystery left for us to solve."

"Certainly," the War Doctor agreed. "Well, gentlemen, it has been an honour and a privilege."

"Likewise," replied the Ninth Doctor, apologetic. "You _are_ the Doctor, as much as any of us."

"Even if we'd had no choice but to destroy Gallifrey, you are very much the Doctor," the Tenth Doctor added, "and I am proud to call you my ninth face."

The War Doctor's eyes were bright. "Thank you." He turned around. "And if I grow to be half the man that _you_ are, Clara Oswald, I shall be happy indeed."

"That's right," she said cheerfully, "aim high!"

"Off I go, then." He whistled a bit. "Which one is mine? Ah!" He noticed the shabbiest, most battered TARDIS and stepped inside. The wheezing and groaning of a dematerialising TARDIS filled the room.

"I suppose that's my cue," Eight told them. "Back to New New Milan for me, and then the War. I'm glad it doesn't end in genocide."

"As are we all," replied Eleven, shaking Eight's hand. "Take care Doctor."

"Wait!" said Jack suddenly. "Before you go, Doctor, may I see that lovely wooden TARDIS interior I've heard so much about?"

"Oh, I want to see this too," Rose joined in.

"Very well," agreed the Doctor. He opened the door to his TARDIS and let them in. The Nobles followed, led by an eager Freddie, and Clara. They wandered through the ship for a bit, admiring the classy décor of the main console room and Gothic chapel feel of the hallways.

"Very posh," said Rose as she stepped out. To Nine, she added, "Doesn't suit you at all, but I quite like your TARDIS, so that's alright."

"So do I," said her older self. She crossed the room to Nine, saying with her eyes what she couldn't say with words. "It's _so_ good to see you again," she whispered, burying her face into his leather jacket."

"Tell me one thing, Rose, before I go," he requested, his Northern accent standing out against the others. "Do you regret any of it?"

Rose Tyler Noble looked at her younger self, and then back at the Doctor. "I don't regret absorbing the Vortex to save you, if that's what you're asking. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, because you're worth the effort. Even if you _had_ killed your people to end the Time War, and now we know that you didn't," she explained, "the good you've done—all the lives I've seen you save—every one is a point in your favour. You made me a better person just by bringing me along on your adventures, and in any universe that has a Rose and a Doctor, that Rose will do anything to keep her Doctor safe."

A single tear rolled down Nine's cheek, but he smiled brilliantly.

"My Rose," he whispered, hugging her tighter. "Do me a great favour, and have a good life."

"I will," she promised. "I'm married to a Doctor, how could I not? Although in personality, I think Wilfred is more like you than his dad," she admitted, "especially in the mornings."

"I heard that!" John Noble protested. "And for Time Lords, children are children regardless of your current regeneration. Freddie and Donna will have characteristics of _all _my past lives."

"And that's just as it should be," Ten proclaimed, picking up little Donna and giving her a kiss. "Your namesake is a brilliant woman, Donna. You've got a lot to live up to."

"What about me, Dad?" Jenny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The same applies to you, although technically you're not my daughter, you're my clone."

"Oh yes," Twelve said, laughing. "She likes bananas as much as you, Nine, and me," he told Ten, who grinned.

"Well," Nine exclaimed, letting go of Rose. "As much fun as this whole day has been, maybe it's time we returned to our lives. Places to go, people to save."

"Excellent," said Jack, finally leaving Eight's TARDIS.

The curly-haired Doctor in velvet stood in his doorway and bid farewell to them all, kissing Clara's hand before she walked away.

"I would say he's far too friendly with women," Nine remarked airily to Twelve, "but _this _one is even worse."

The pinstriped Doctor's indignant "Oi!" went unheard as the Eighth Doctor dematerialised.

"He has a point," Eleven joined in. "I mean, Madame de Pompadour and Queen Elizabeth the First? Could you find a more conspicuous woman to romance?"

"Oh!" cried the Metacrisis. "Remember when we met Shakespeare with Martha, and Elizabeth came into the theatre ready to cut off my head? Now we know why!"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Divorce was too mainstream?"

"Well, you did abandon her for a few decades," River Song explained patiently. "Actually, you have a habit of _that_, too. Poor Mum."

"Okay, okay!" cried the Eleventh Doctor. "Enough picking on the Doctors! Let's all go our separate ways and then remember none of this."

River broke away from Twelve and gave Nine a kiss, which only confused him.

"Er, thanks for that, lovely," he said awkwardly. "Rose, Jack, TARDIS, now."

The Ninth Doctor and his two companions left. It was a shame that he wouldn't remember his predecessor's choice, thought Nine, but coming had been worth it. For a few glorious minutes, he had the most precious knowledge he'd ever received; his people were lost, but they were not gone.

"River, for shame," Eleven scolded her as Nine's TARDIS disappeared. "He doesn't have a clue who you are."

"Gents, there's a man looking for the Doctor. I think it's the curator," Clara said, appearing around a corner with a fresh cup of tea. She bid farewell to the Nobles, Ten, River, Jenny, and Twelve, and went into Eleven's TARDIS.

The remaining Doctors sat and admired the painting. Freddie had climbed into Twelve's lap, and Donna into Ten's. Rose Noble rested her head on John's shoulder.

"I could be a curator," mused Eleven. "I'd be great at curating. I'd be the Great Curator."

"Well, you're certainly old enough to retire," Ten replied thoughtfully. "You should become the curator of this place."

"You know, I really think you might," said a voice.

An old man came into view, leaning on a walking stick. He stopped just right of the _Gallifrey Falls_ painting and regarded them all with good cheer.

"I never forget a face," whispered Ten, shocked.

"I know you don't. And in years to come, you might find yourself revisiting a few. But just the old favourites, eh?"

He winked.

"You were curious about this painting, I think," the curator told them. "I acquired it in remarkable circumstances. What do you make of the title?"

"Which one?" asked Eleven. "There are two: _No More_ or _Gallifrey Falls_."

"Oh, you see, that's where everybody is wrong. It's all one title," he told them. "_Gallifrey Falls No More_. Now, what would you think that means, eh?"

"That Gallifrey didn't fall!" cried John Noble, grinning widely and startling his daughter. "It worked! It's still out there!"

For a moment, he and the Tenth Doctor stared at each other, like two children magically skipping five months to Christmas morning. Then, they jumped up and embraced, laughing in relief.

"I'm only a humble curator," the old man told them. "I'm sure I wouldn't know."

The Twelfth Doctor rolled his eyes, while River whispered something into a confused Jenny's ear.

"Then where is it?" Eleven asked him.

"Where is it indeed?" the curator replied. "Lost. Shush. Perhaps. Things do get lost, you know. And now you must excuse me. Oh, you have a lot to do."

"Do I?" asked the younger Doctor curiously.

"Mmmm."

"Is that what I'm supposed to do now? Go looking for Gallifrey?" he wondered.

"If you don't, then I will," the Metacrisis offered, "if I remember this, of course."

"Oh, it's entirely up to you," the future Doctor disguised as a curator answered. "Your choice, eh? I can only tell you what I would do if I were you. Oh, if I were you. Oh, perhaps I _was_ you, of course. Or perhaps you are me. Congratulations."

"Thank you," the pinstriped Doctor told him, very sincerely.

"Or perhaps it doesn't matter either way. Who knows, eh? Who knows?" the curator tapped the side of his nose and walked away.

"We did it!" cried Ten, jubilant. "We actually did it!"

"Have you found it yet?" Eleven asked Twelve, who shook his head.

"Still, that's alright," the oldest Doctor told them. "It's something to look forward to. Jenny wants to see the fields of red grass under Mount Perdition, so to Gallifrey we'll go, someday. And then we'll get her a TARDIS of her own."

The Metacrisis Doctor held out a hand to Rose, who took it and stood up. "Imagine if Gallifrey had ended up in _our_ universe," he said thoughtfully. "I'd be able to take you _home_!"

"I really hope you remember this," said Twelve to the Nobles. "There should be at least one Doctor per universe knowing what really happened."

"And for what it's worth," Ten added, "I am sorry. You might've noticed I have a habit of disowning regenerations when they do things I don't agree with," he said ruefully. "I lashed out before I had thought my actions through fully, and hurt you and myself in the process."

"We forgave you long ago, Doctor," Rose assured him, stroking his cheek gently. "We've had wonderful adventures as humans, and now that our TARDIS is almost fully grown, we'll start exploring again."

"What if you stayed in our universe?" Eleven suggested. "Let the Moment's window close, and stay on this side."

"No," Rose answered, shaking her head. "We have jobs, Freddie has school, my parents and brother, everything is back in our universe."

"I agree," the Metacrisis said. "And our universe has hostile aliens too. They can always use a Doctor and the Defender of the Earth."

"Wait," Jenny cried suddenly. "Dad, Dr. Noble and Donna sort of transferred stuff to each other, right?"

"Yes, she got a Time Lord brain and I got a bit of human emotions, ingenuity, and one heart," the Metacrisis confirmed.

"Well," the blonde said slowly, "what would happen if _you_ went to see Donna, and sucked the Time Lord bits out of her? You probably have a better connection to her brain, since in a way she's your mother. Could you do it in a way that would let her keep her memories?"

The four Doctors looked at each other, ideas firing rapidly through their brains.

"You know," Twelve said at last, "that just might work. It didn't occur to me before, because _he_ was out of reach—"

"But I'm here now, and I'll help Donna however I can," the Metacrisis finished.

"Wait," the Eleventh Doctor objected. "Just before you regenerated into me," he told the two Doctors in pinstripes, "there was a bit of a pickle with the Master, and Rassilon bringing Gallifrey to Earth and trying to break through the time lock. The Master used an Immortality Gate to turn every human into a copy of himself."

"Eww," said Jenny.

"Eww is right," the Tenth Doctor agreed, wrinkling his nose.

"Anyway, because of what happened to Donna, she was immune to the Immortality Gate, and her brain defended her from anyone who tried to alter it. That was in 2010," Eleven finished. "So, I recommend restoring her memories—if we can—_after_ that happens. I'm sorry, but you will regenerate into me before we can travel with her again."

Ten sighed. "Well, it's better than the alternative. She didn't want to lose any of it, so I expect she'd be glad to have it back. _If_ she forgives us, you had better take her to Felspoon and anywhere else she wants to go."

"Let's go," said John eagerly. "Which TARDIS?"

"Let's take mine," suggested Twelve. "Is Clara coming?"

"I'll get her," Eleven promised. "This will be a group effort!"

With great curiosity, the younger Doctors piled into Twelve's TARDIS. It didn't look very different from Eleven's, but there were small, subtle changes that a seasoned traveller would notice.

"Ooh, these are nice," said Ten, sinking into a plush green navigator's chair. "I'm quite classy in my old age."

"You are indeed," River Song said, laughing. "You know, I'm very excited about this! I've heard lots about Donna Noble from you Doctors and from Jenny, but I've never met her."

"She met you," John told her quietly. "The first time I ever saw you."

Comprehension dawned in the archaeologist's eyes. "So when I meet her properly, neither of you will recognize me."

The Metacrisis nodded.

"Ah."

"The Doctor and Clara Oswald reporting for duty!" said Eleven, climbing in and shutting the door. "Off to Chiswick, then?"

"Let's do it," Ten cried eagerly.

Twelve programmed the coordinates, and they were off, with all four Doctors, River, and Jenny manning the controls. The landing was smoother than most Rose had experienced with her Doctors.

"It's eleven o'clock in the morning," the oldest Doctor informed them. "Her husband, Shaun, is at work, so she visits Wilf around this time. Things will be quite a bit easier with him at home."

Luckily, he was. To avoid overwhelming the poor man, Twelve and River knocked on the door, while the others waited. The TARDIS was clearly visible from the front door.

"Yes, what is it?" asked Wilfred Mott, opening the door. "What do you wan—oh!"

His eyes went very round. He looked from the TARDIS to the Doctor and back again.

"Doctor?"

"Hello, Wilf," replied the Twelfth Doctor, smiling. "It's good to see you again."

"And you!" cried the man happily. "How long has it been for you?"

"Oh, well over a thousand years," replied the Time Lord, shocking Wilf into silence. "But there are some strange circumstances, and I have a few people eager to talk to you. Do you mind stepping into the TARDIS for a bit?"

"Not at all!" Wilf replied. "Donna! I'm just walking around the block, alright? Be right back!"

He closed the door and hobbled down the front steps, beating the Doctor to the TARDIS.

"Oh, you've redecorated," the human said cheerfully, inspecting the console room. "I like it. It's very grown-up, and a lot cleaner than the last time I saw it."

The Tenth Doctor stepped into view. Wilf's jaw dropped.

"How? How are there two of you?" he asked, looking between Ten and Twelve. "I thought you were dying?"

"He's from the past," the Twelfth Doctor explained. "He hasn't met the Master and the other Time Lords yet. We've had a very strange day, in which there were seven Doctors working together, and then fourteen. They've gone now, except for my two previous regenerations," he pointed to Eleven, who waved, "and the Metacrisis of the Doctor you knew."

John stood beside his lookalike, smiling at Wilf.

Tears came to the old man's eyes. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said shakily, then ran the three feet to the Tenth Doctor and the Metacrisis and hugged them both, as tightly as he could. Then he processed what Twelve had said. "So this is you _before_ you were poisoned. What happened after you stopped by Donna's wedding?"

"I regenerated into this body," Eleven explained. "I don't regret it, Wilf. If I had truly died for you, it would have been for a good cause and a better man...and as you can see, I'm still alive and kicking in my thirteenth and fourteenth bodies."

"And over two thousand years old," Wilf added, shell-shocked. "What brings you back to Chiswick? Not that I'm not happy to see you, mind," he amended quickly.

"Well, we thought our Metacrisis self was lost for good in another universe," Eleven said, "and he will be again, but not just yet. This is the Doctor with a bit of Donna in him. We thought he might be able to help her regain her memories without hurting her."

"We know she's married and happy," Ten reassured Wilf, "and if you tell us to leave her be, we will. But this might be the only chance we have to restore her head. What do you think?"

"Do it," said Wilf immediately. "You don't know how much it hurt to see her go back to what she was." He went a bit dewy-eyed. "Shaun is a nice boy, but it's not the same. She could do and _be_ so much more, but she doesn't _know_ that she can."

"Then we'll do our best," Twelve said soothingly, patting Wilfred's shoulder.

"Now to convince Donna," River teased. "Hello, Mr. Mott. I'm Professor River Song, the Doctor's wife."

"You've done well for yourself, son," Wilf said, shaking River's hand.

"I'm Rose Noble," the other blonde introduced herself. "I'm the wife of that Doctor there, in the grey pinstripes. These are our children, Wilfred and Donna."

Wilfred Mott was deeply moved by the children's names. Despite his creaky joints, Wilf picked up little Donna and inspected her carefully, while she smiled drowsily.

"Are you the old Wilfred?" little Freddie asked Wilf.

"I am," answered the man. "I'm the other Donna's grandfather."

"You're nice," the boy decided. "I like you."

"I like you too. What a beautiful family you have, Doctor," Wilf sighed, kissing the little girl's forehead. "Well, shall we all go inside?"

He led them into the house. It was a bit crowded in the sitting room, but they didn't have long to wait.

"Gramps, that was a bit of a walk," Donna Temple-Noble called out, appearing in the sitting room with a packet of biscuits in her hand. "You alright?"

She noticed the room full of strangers and stopped in her tracks, staring at John Noble and Ten.

"I've seen you before," she said suspiciously. "What're you doing here, then?"

"We're here to help you, Donna," the Eleventh Doctor said sincerely. "Listen, do you remember anything about what happened three years ago, with people all looking the same?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Freakiest thing I ever saw, that. Everyone looked like Harold Saxon."

"Did you have any weird flashbacks?"

The redhead frowned. "I did. Now tell me how you know that."

"The reason _you_ didn't turn into a copy of Harold Saxon," explained the Metacrisis Doctor, "is that something happened to you before then, something you can't remember. It made you immune."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?"

"Donna, you lost a _lot_ of memories," Wilfred told her gently. "These men can help you get them back."

"Are you doctors, then?" she asked sceptically.

"Some of us," John Noble replied. "This is totally up to you, though, Donna. Do you _want_ to get your memories back?"

Inside Donna's brain, there was a voice that practically shouted for joy. She didn't know these men, but she'd felt off-kilter for a while now, like she had forgotten something important. This was her chance to get it back.

"Alright then, skinny boys," she said, taking a seat. "How are we doing this?"

"Close your eyes," instructed the Metacrisis. "Try to think of nothing. If it helps you can try counting, or reciting something familiar."

Donna did so. After a while, Jenny saw her foot tapping against the rug.

Slowly, John approached her. The others watched carefully as he raised both hands to his best friend's temples.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, Donna's eyes opened wide. Her mouth formed a silent scream as memories came flooding back. She could tell that the man doing this to her was holding back, a bit like a child tearing off a plaster slowly instead of all at once.

First came the Racnoss and a wedding dress she didn't remember wearing. Then came the little blobs of fat, a volcano eruption in Pompeii, a race of tentacled telepathic slaves with brains in their hands, potato-headed clone soldiers, and a sky on fire. A planet of human clones fighting walking fish, a party at Agatha Christie's, people with two shadows, a spa on a faraway planet, a gigantic bug on her back, Bad Wolf? Pepperpots invading the Earth and stealing planets, a severed hand, golden light, knowledge! So much knowledge flying into her head, and it burned!

John sifted through the mess in Donna's brain, picking out memories he could give her back. The complex thoughts of the Time Lords, the ones that had nearly killed her, he locked in the deepest corner of her mind, where she would never find them. He restored the memories of every adventure they'd had together, carefully removing the bits influenced by her time as the Doctor-Donna.

When he opened his eyes again, a full thirteen minutes had passed. The rest of the room sat in silence, waiting with baited breath.

"Did it work?" asked Jenny quietly.

"Donna," John said gently, "can you open your eyes?"

Slowly, the Doctor's best mate did so. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, in a flurry of movement, she pushed the Metacrisis back, ran to Ten, and slapped him hard.

"Ow!" he cried. "What was that for?"

"That," shouted Donna, "is for taking away my memories, even after I begged you not to!"

"Donna, they were killing you," Eleven objected.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked rudely.

"Ah, right. Introductions," said Wilf quickly. "Donna, these four men are all the Doctor," he explained. "Over there is Professor River Song, Rose, Wilfred, and Donna."

"I'm Clara," the Impossible Girl introduced herself. "I travel with the Doctor in the bow tie."

"And I'm Jenny, but we've met before," the Doctor's daughter said, smiling.

"Yeah, I remember you," Donna replied. "How are you all here?"

"Time travel, Donna," explained the Metacrisis. "We were all pulled into the past to end the Time War, and since I ended up here, too, we wanted to see if I could do what _they_ couldn't, since you're the one who gave me life."

"Well, cheers for that," the lady replied. "I owe you, Skinny. Glad to see you and Rose are okay. What were you thinking, naming your kid after me?"

"I was thinking that Donna is one of the greatest women I've met," John told her sincerely. "And that if my daughter is anything like you, I can ask no more than that. I didn't introduce myself properly, by the way. I'm John Noble," he finished, extending a hand.

Donna shook it, raising an eyebrow at the name. "You've dropped the Smith, then. Good! Gramps, you don't sound one bit surprised."

"Course not," Eleven told her. "Wilf here helped me save the world, while you were missing your memories and everyone was turning into Harold Saxon—who was actually the Master, by the way."

"Wow!" said little Freddie. "Dad, how come you never told us that story?"

"Because it happened after we separated from this universe, mate," John replied.

"Way to go, Gramps," Donna cheered, kissing her favourite relative on the cheek.

"Don't thank me too much," he said painfully. "I'm the reason your Doctor regenerated into that one," he said, pointing to Eleven.

"Wilf, don't!" the Eleventh Doctor scolded. "I told you, I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"As would I," Twelve agreed. "Oh, Donna, it's good to see you again. It's been ages."

"And when he says ages, he means it," Ten told her, still rubbing his face where she'd slapped him. "He's at least a thousand years older than me."

"I'm quite new to this body," objected Twelve. "It's _him_ who spent a whole millennium on Trenzalore."

"Right," Donna interrupted. "What happens now? I mean, I went and got married, and got a lottery ticket as a present—" she trailed off, looking at Ten suspiciously. "That was _you_, wasn't it?"

The Doctors grinned. "Did you win?"

"Course I won! Anyway, how is this going to work? 'Cause now that I know who I am, I'm not giving it up for anything. Shaun will have to deal with it. Are you all travelling together now? Doesn't it cause paradoxes?"

"No, we came together today, and wanted to visit you before we split up again," Twelve told her. "The Nobles are going back to their universe, and the rest of us will return to our timelines the second we're back in the National Gallery."

"So whose timeline are we in now?"

All of the Doctors pointed to Eleven.

"From what I've gathered, I'm supposed to regenerate three years ago," the pinstriped Doctor told Donna, shrugging. "So once I go, if you want to travel with a Doctor again, it won't be me."

"Let's get back to the Gallery," suggested the Metacrisis. "It's time my family and I went home."

They piled into Twelve's TARDIS, now with Donna and Wilf. The journey back to the National Gallery was smooth and quick, but enough for Freddie Noble to fall asleep in his mother's arms.

Donna could not believe that eight years had gone by in the parallel universe, but only three in hers.

"That's amazing," she was saying to Rose. "Skinny doesn't look old enough to be a father, and he's been married that long already?"

Rose laughed. "You know he's older than he looks. When you met him he was well into his 900s, and my John is going a bit grey. I don't mind," she added, impish. "I think it's sexy."

"You must really enjoy that other Doctor, then," Donna replied, looking at Twelve.

"Oh no," said John, leaving the console to sit with the ladies. "You've chosen the most attractive Doctor, now you're stuck with me forever, love."

"Time to go," the Twelfth Doctor said to his younger selves. "It's been a pleasure to see you all, especially Donna," he added honestly. "I knew today we would save Gallifrey, but I don't remember this bit at all. Perhaps the Moment's influence fades over time."

"If it does, we'd better go home while we still can," Rose said regretfully. "We'll miss you terribly, Donna. You too, Wilf."

"Don't we exist in the parallel universe?" Wilfred asked curiously.

"Sure you do," replied John. "I checked. But we don't have the same history, you understand. That Donna never met the Racnoss."

"Well, you should take her out for a spin in your baby TARDIS," Donna suggested, hugging her metacrisis 'son'. "She needs the adventure, even if she doesn't know it yet."

"I will," said the Metacrisis Doctor, smiling. "And you, Donna Noble," he ordered, "have a _brilliant_ life. Keep this universe's Doctor in trouble."

Donna mock-saluted, then hugged Rose. As the Nobles took their sleeping children, the others waved goodbye. The TARDIS door shut after them.

"I really hope he can remember all of this," Ten sighed to Eleven. "Since I know _I _won't. Donna, Wilf, keep up the good fight," he instructed. "I'll see you again, but in their bodies," he gestured toward Eleven and Twelve.

"I am a _tiny_ bit sorry for slapping you," Donna apologized, then smirked. "Although I'm sure you'll do something to deserve it, eventually."

"Oh yes," Ten admitted. "I'm glad I met you, Doctor," he said to Eleven. "My future is in good hands. Keep a tight hold on it, Clara," he instructed.

"On it," replied Clara, smiling as he kissed her hand.

Ten gave Jenny a lingering hug. "I don't want to go," he admitted.

"You always say that," Twelve told him.

Shaking his head, Ten bid farewell to River and Wilf, and was off.

Now only two TARDISes remained.

"Alright, Donna. My future self here says that he can't remember visiting you, which means that _I _won't remember visiting you. I don't want to leave you stranded until I sort out the mess in my head, so I suggest you go with him instead of me."

"I just met you, and already you're trying to get rid of me," Donna sighed.

"It's not that!" protested Eleven, about to go on until she laughed.

"I know, dumbo. I'm just joking. I don't care which body you're in as long as it's you, alright?"

"Good," the Eleventh Doctor answered. He shook hands with Wilf, then hugged Donna tightly enough to make her bones creak. "See you in my next life, Doctor-Donna."

"Bye," said Clara happily, and followed her Doctor out of Twelve's TARDIS and into their own. The sound of a dematerialising TARDIS filled their ears.

"Right then," the Twelfth Doctor declared, punching in new coordinates. "How would you like to visit Felspoon?"

Donna's grin was all the reply he needed. She led her grandfather to a chair.

"I don't remember much about this, 'cos Skinny took it out of my head, but I do remember that Felspoon has mountains that sway in the breeze," she said happily. "Oh Gramps, you're going to love this!" 

FIN

* * *

This is probably the only DW fic I'll ever write, just because I can't write without obsessive fact checking, and Doctor Who has fifty years of TV episodes, prose, audio adventures, and who knows what else to go through. It's a bit intimidating for someone who barely got into the show during the Tennant years, and didn't become a full-fledged Whovian until she rewatched all of New Who a few weeks ago.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. This was my attempt to give all of the Time War Doctors a bit of closure, especially Nine and the Metacrisis, and the latter refused to go until he'd done something for Donna. Now that this is out of my system, back to _Sherlock_ and _LOTR _I go! Look for the next chapter of _Game Board_ in a few days, although I'm moving house, so I might be late. Curse you, real life!

PS - I have a poll on my bio page, asking which of my ongoing stories you're most eager to see updated. Vote if you're so inclined, and I'll use that to reorder my writing priorities. XD


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